The Dance
by CrysWimmer
Summary: (2003 Miniseries) Complete! Life aboard the Galactica is getting back to normal, but will the Commander's ideas to improve morale be a benefit or an invitation to disaster?
1. Introductions

The Dance By Crystal Wimmmer  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"A dance?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
Kara Thrace looked at her friend in pure disbelief. "The entire world is coming apart, and the commander wants to have a dance?"  
  
"I guess it's pretty traditional," Sharon remarked. "Anyway, it's just for officers and enlisted. No civilians, unless they come as a guest."  
  
Kara just shook her head. "The world is ending," she said flatly.  
  
Sharon grinned. "Not likely. I think he just wants us to have some down- time. We haven't had any major issues lately, and we're essentially between star systems, so there's no possibility of a sneak attack because there's no place for Cylons to hide. I think he's just trying to boost morale while he has the chance."  
  
Kara slid around on her bunk and lay back. A dance? The old man had to be out of his mind.  
  
They had been on the run from the Cylons for almost six months. Their home world was gone, and there wasn't much hope of seeing another one in this lifetime. All of their resources were needed for survival, and now the commander of the fleet was suggesting a dance? It didn't seem possible.  
  
"He's gone out of his mind," she commented darkly. She half believed it.  
  
"No, he's just trying to give us something to look forward to," Sharon said softly. "There hasn't been much good in the last few months, and people are starting to go for each other's throats."  
  
"I know we're a little bored, but what kind of an answer is this?"  
  
"It's something to do that's fun, Kara. Not everything needs to be about survival."  
  
Kara didn't comment, but she did roll her eyes. She and Sharon had disagreed on a lot of things in the last few months, but this was another level entirely. Wasting time, effort, and resources on something as silly as an awards banquet and formal dance was just ridiculous. Granted, they were better off than they had been in a while, but that didn't mean they could let their guard down.  
  
"It's got to be a mistake," she finally muttered.  
  
Sharon shrugged, not inclined to argue. Kara was disappointed, because a good argument might be just what she needed. She was edgy and nervous due to the lack of activity in recent weeks, and the part of her that was a warrior was just waiting for something else to go wrong. The woman in her was hopeful, but she had always been more warrior than woman.  
  
And she didn't have a damn thing to wear.  
  
"So, if it is a dance, are you going with Tyrol?"  
  
Sharon turned to look at her, a scowl on her face. "I don't know," she admitted. "He hasn't asked, but even if he did it's crossing a line."  
  
Kara rolled on her side so that she was facing Sharon with a narrow aisle between then. "It's not like anyone doesn't know," she reminded her friend. "Even most of the deck crew is okay with it now."  
  
"Most of them are friends. It's a little different flaunting a relationship in front of the commander. It's like asking for trouble."  
  
"Maybe. Or maybe it's just asking for permission."  
  
"He hasn't asked," Sharon said again. "So it's a moot point."  
  
Kara rolled her eyes again, a familiar gesture. "So ask him," she suggested.  
  
"Right," Sharon said with a grimace. "That would go over just fine. It's bad enough that I rank above him, but if I start trying to take the lead in our relationship he's likely to put a stop to it altogether."  
  
"You don't believe that. Do you?"  
  
Sharon shrugged, but she didn't answer. Kara didn't push. She teased her friend about dating an enlisted man, but she had the good sense to know when it wasn't a joke any more. Sharon and Tyrol had been having problems, or so it appeared from her sudden return to officer's quarters in recent nights. Kara didn't know what to say to help, so she decided to stay out of it. The bottom line was that the Chief was pretty terrific, and she couldn't blame Sharon for her interest. That soft and squishy part of her - the part she preferred to ignore - was rooting for the two of them.  
  
Sitting up quickly, she announced, "I'm going to the rec-room. You want anything?"  
  
"I'm fine," Sharon told her. "I'll probably take a nap or something. I'm on duty early tomorrow. Just have a good time."  
  
"Right," Kara grinned. "I promise not to hit anyone."  
  
"Wise choice," Sharon told her simply.  
  
It took only a few minutes to walk the length of the Galactica to the Recreation Center. It wasn't the large room it used to be, but rather a couple of smaller ones that had been redecorated to serve the need for soldiers to cut loose a bit outside the constant civilian supervision. The larger room they'd had before the war had been converted into family living quarters. There were times that Kara resented the loss of space, as they all seemed to be living in one another's pockets, but she understood the necessity. Space was still at a premium in the fleet.  
  
Thankfully, many of the civilians had been moved out to other ships. Immediately following the beginning of the war, the Battlestar had been so crowded with people that it was hard to walk. As space on other ships became available, most of those people had been moved off to civilian locations. Commander Adama said it was because the Battlestar was first and foremost a war ship, and no place for civilians. Kara had a feeling it had more to do with security issues.  
  
Whatever the real reason, Kara was grateful for what little space had been returned to them. While the single officers and enlisted personnel still were housed in group conditions, at least the families had been able to join together. There were also a few rooms that had been set aside for occasional single or double occupation. She hadn't taken the time to request one of the rooms for the night, as the waiting list was so long, but she might do it soon. It would feel good to sleep in a room that didn't have twenty other people in it, or take a shower without an audience.  
  
As Kara stepped through the hatch to the officer's recreation center, she had to smile. The space might be smaller, but the feeling of the room was still the same. A young group of cadets were sitting a table drinking coffee, or at least what passed for it on the Galactica. A few of her fellow pilots were gathered around another table playing cards. That was likely where she would wind up. A couple of bridge officers were talking against one wall, and a few others were gathered by the coffee machine. Kara eased through the crowd of bodies with a natural grace. She didn't fit into any of the groups really, but then she never had. She'd make a place when she was ready.  
  
"Hey, Starbuck," Jill said lightly. "What brings you here."  
  
"Bored," Kara stated simply. "Calli's overhauling my Viper this week."  
  
Jill nodded, and gestured to her friends. "Want to join us?"  
  
Kara looked around at the women, most of them rookies that had been new to the Galactica when the war began. It was a group she had absolutely nothing in common with. Still, she could either join them or try to edge into an already full game of Pyramid, and she didn't have the energy at the moment to go start an argument. That, and she wasn't adequately intoxicated to want to take the chance of being taken to the commander.  
  
"Sure," she finally answered. She poured a cup of coffee, grimacing as she remembered the old days, when ambrosia had been the drink of choice. She really missed getting drunk some days, and this was one of them. At the very least, it would relieve the boredom. Cup in hand, she followed the younger group to a corner table and sat down with them.  
  
"This is Brie," Jill said quickly, gesturing to a tall woman with long brown hair. "And Shelly, Dee, and Mitzi." Jill pointed to each of them in turn, but Kara knew she wouldn't remember a single name.  
  
"Nice to meet you," she lied, and took a long drink of bitter coffee.  
  
"We were just talking about the big awards dance," Brie gushed. "I think Devon is going to ask me. I still have this little skirt that I got on Caprica, and I'm dying for a chance to wear it.  
  
"Oh, he'll ask," Dee cut in. But I think I'm going to have to ask Billy. Political cabinet members aren't military, are they?"  
  
"No," Kara interjected. "They're not. "But it raises a question. Is the President going to be there?"  
  
"I don't know," Jill said with a truly confused look. Kara didn't think she'd ever been that young. "She has to give out the awards, doesn't she?"  
  
"The dance is after the ceremony, so that really doesn't mean anything."  
  
"The commander with probably ask her," Dee said with a grin. "I think he likes her."  
  
"Really? Have you heard something?" Brie asked airily.  
  
"She's just around a lot," Dee clarified. "And there's no arguing, if you know what I mean."  
  
"She's the President," Kara remarked dryly. "What's the point in arguing with her?"  
  
"He did at first," Dee offered. "A lot, and loud. And she used to try to give Colonel Tigh orders, but he didn't take them of course."  
  
Kara felt a headache coming on. Gossip was bad enough, but gossip that placed her most respected and least respected leaders in the same conversation was beyond her ability to rationalize.  
  
"It's been fun, girls," she said after emptying her cup. "But I really should go check with Calli on my Viper." She was out of her seat and half way across the room before even Jill could call out a quick good-bye. She knew she'd probably been rude, but was sure that Boomer would be proud of her. She hadn't hit a single person.  
  
Lee Adama set his clipboard down and reached into the Viper to jiggle a switch. The damn thing just wouldn't operate correctly, in test or in flight, and he couldn't figure out where the short was. He supposed he should ask Calli, or the Chief, or any of a dozen other technicians that were wandering about, but he wanted to figure this puzzle out by himself.  
  
He popped the switch out of the console, removed the fuse behind it, and glared at the perfectly operational piece of equipment. It wasn't the fuse, wasn't the wiring, and wasn't the seating. Why in the world wasn't that stupid button working properly.  
  
He was intent enough in his scrutiny that he missed what was going on around him. He didn't hear the woman slip up behind him. He didn't hear her take his clipboard, and he didn't have a clue what was happening when Kara Thrace put a hand on each of his shoulders and lifted herself up to look over one shoulder at him.  
  
"Hey," she said with a huge smile.  
  
"Frak!" He was proud of himself. He didn't fall off the scaffolding, and he didn't drop anything. He thought about throwing her down, but decided against it. She was too good a pilot to break her arm. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked as he tried to catch his breath.  
  
"Alleviating boredom," she answered simply, dropping back to her own feet and looking around his arm. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Trying to troubleshoot these electronics," he admitted. "I've got a sensor that's locking up on me, and I have no clue why."  
  
"Diagnostic?" she asked, immediately intent as she snagged the clipboard from the Viper wing where he had laid it.  
  
"Negative," he admitted. "According to the computer, everything's working fine. But it's not lighting up."  
  
"Heat system," she muttered. "Anything fried?"  
  
"Wiring's intact," he told her. "Seating, circuit. it all checks out."  
  
"Weird," she mumbled as she leaned over the seating past him and began wiggling buttons around the one that didn't work. "How about the rest of the panel?"  
  
"Fine," Lee told her, taking the clipboard she passed back to him. She had leaned forward until she was hanging into the Viper, her feet six inches off the ground and her bottom wiggling around in the air as she tried to reach the electronic panel without actually getting into the Viper. "It might be easier from the inside," he finally told her.  
  
"Nope," she grunted, leaning forward some more. "I've got it."  
  
"Got what?"  
  
"Prob." Her word was cut off mid way as she lost her balance and began to slide head-first into the cockpit. Lee did the only thing he could, and grabbed her by one boot before she landed on her head. As always, he was amazed at how light she was as he tugged her out.  
  
"You're going to hurt yourself," he complained.  
  
"Not with you around," she said with a grin. "Try it now."  
  
He leaned over himself, his height and length of arm making it effortless to reach the switch that had given her so much trouble. He pressed the button and saw the light flash bright green, as it should. He pressed it again, it went out, and he pressed a sequence of other buttons. The original light flashed green again, blinking in regular time. He turned it off, tapped in another sequence, and watched as the button began to flash red.  
  
"How the hell do you do that?" he grumbled.  
  
"Everyone has to have a skill," she told him with a genuine smile.  
  
"Yeah, and we know what yours is," he reminded her with a smirk.  
  
She shrugged the insult off. "The old man had me work with Tyrol for about six months after I got assigned here," she told him. "I took these panels apart and put them back together until I could do it in my sleep. It wasn't that button that was out," she explained. "It was the one two over. They share a fuse, but because you never need that one.."  
  
"I didn't realize it was out," he reasoned. "Great."  
  
"It's that way in a lot of panels," she continued, leaning back against the Viper. "If something's not working, you have to look around the problem rather than at it. I didn't invent the wiring. Whoever did was a little warped. Either that, or they wanted to ensure that engineering was never bored."  
  
Lee reached past her for the clipboard, bopping her on the head with it once he'd retrieved it. "If you're bored, I'm sure Tyrol could use you down here."  
  
She shrugged again, but didn't reply to his suggestion. "So, what's next?"  
  
"Next," he announced. "Is a shower and some sleep. I just got in off patrol."  
  
"That must have been exciting," she said with sarcasm clear in her voice.  
  
"Uneventful is good," he told her firmly. "We've checked out as far as sensors will go, and even jumped a few Raptors, and there's no sign of anything for as far as we can sense. Until we get into the next star system, things should stay pretty quiet."  
  
"How long until that?"  
  
"Two weeks, give or take. We still have to be on guard, because the Cylons can jump as easily as we can, but unless they land in the middle of the fleet we should be able to defend pretty easily. We're back up to three fighter squadrons, armament is at full, and we have more pilots than we can keep busy."  
  
"Tell me about it," she muttered. "So, going to sleep, huh?"  
  
He looked at her sideways, wondering what her point was. "Is that a problem?"  
  
"No, but I was wondering if I could ask you about something."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Have you heard anything about this awards dinner and dance thing?"  
  
Lee just stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I've heard. My father wants to keep things as normal as possible for the personnel, and the award ceremony is tradition. He figures many of our pilots have it coming, and most of the deck crew as well. We've worked some miracles since the war began, and he wants to recognize that."  
  
"I'm not a reporter," she said simply as she followed him down the scaffolding ladder to the fight deck. "I don't need a press release."  
  
Lee scribbled a few lines on the clipboard and handed it to a deck hand before continuing on his way out of the hanger. Kara looked around her, then followed him quickly. "Are you going to give me a straight answer?"  
  
He stopped at looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm sure you know what I know."  
  
"Except how you feel about it," she remarked, although he thought she might be getting an idea.  
  
"You know my father and I don't agree on everything," he admitted. "This is just one more thing. I understand his reasons, and I admire them, but I think letting our guard down is asking for trouble."  
  
Kara grinned at him. "Thank the Lords," she muttered. "I thought all the Adamas had gone nuts."  
  
He shook his head. "I take it you're opposed as well?"  
  
"I think it's ridiculous," she said as she matched his stride walking down the passageway towards their quarters. "All the bridge crew is acting like it's the best idea since packaged food, and I just don't get it."  
  
"Most of them are kids," he told her. "They still think this is one big adventure. The commander hasn't helped much, either. He's so busy trying to give them a 'normal' environment that I think he has them fooling themselves. We're at war, whether we're actively engaged or not, and I think we need to remember that."  
  
"And you've told him that?"  
  
"I've told him, Colonel Tigh's told him, and I think half the deck crew has talked to him at one point or another. President Roslyn suggested it, and he's going through with it, and it appears that's the end of the discussion."  
  
They came to the door of their quarters, and Lee stopped just outside the hatch. "You could talk to him," he suggested. "He's listened to you before."  
  
She shook her head. "If he won't listen to his XO or his son, then I don't know what you think I can say."  
  
Lee shrugged one shoulder, opened the hatch, and walked into the room leaving her standing in the passageway. 


	2. Explanations

Chapter 2  
  
Commander William Adama sat back in his chair and looked over the duty roster that was before him. Essentially, everything looked fine to him. There seemed to be a fair rotation among the squadrons for the patrols, and he didn't see any major holes in the schedule. He might request that they add a few more Vipers to the rear quadrant, or possibly another Raptor if it was available. While he understood that it really didn't matter where they'd come from or where they were going, as jumping could place Cylons at any point in space, his instinct was still to cover their retreat to the best of his ability. Thankfully, for the first time in months, they had both the planes and personnel to accomplish that.  
  
The first few months of their flight had been perilous. Until they had managed to secure enough food and fuel to hold them for the better part of the year, and repair the ships that had been damaged in the initial attack and subsequent jumps, he hadn't been able to rest for a moment. Now, with all ships operational and well supplied from the few planets they had been able to orbit long enough to restock, he was in less fear of an imminent defeat. They could keep going for a while, at any rate. His only regret was that of all the planets they had encountered, none had been readily habitable.  
  
It hadn't been easy juggling the fleet while he sent his best crewmembers to other ships to make repairs. He'd been more than a little nervous spreading their resources that thin, and didn't for a moment believe that they were at all safe from their enemies. His hope was that they were far enough out that Cylon influence wouldn't affect them, but the warrior in him knew better. He would never underestimate his enemy. Complacency had started this war, and he wouldn't let it be the end of them all.  
  
In addition to the Cylons, lately he had been dealing with numerous internal threats as well. The crew was getting tired; that was the bottom line. They needed something besides the war to get them going again, so it had seemed to make sense to follow President Roslyn's suggestion to try to get back to some of their traditions. Well, if not make sense, at least give him a relatively harmless way to placate her.  
  
She wasn't well. That had become apparent in recent meetings. She was pale, losing weight, and he had a feeling that it was more than simply the stress of command. She handled command remarkably well for someone who had not asked for the position. She was insistent, but reasonable. She was confident, yet willing to ask about that which she did not know. She was intelligent, and yet she wasn't a know-it-all. Under different circumstances, they might even have been friends. However, his interest in her health was not a matter of friendship, but of professionalism. She could not do her job if she was ill, and he could not do her job and his own as well. By necessity, their jobs were quite different.  
  
So when she had asked him for this, with no political strings attached, he had decided that he could concede this one non-military decision to her, and say a gracious thank-you that he did not feel. If she won this battle, perhaps she would concede to him at a future date when their lives depended on it.  
  
He had announced the celebration to mixed reviews. The bridge crew seemed enamoured with the idea, whereas the pilots and deck crew were more reserved. He thought it had to do with the degree to which the war had truly been experienced at its outset. The bridge might have heard the reports and tabulated statistics, but it was the pilots who watched their friends and comrades shot from the skies, and it was the flight crews that had taken the greatest blow to their numbers. They had lost almost half of their pilots to the war, but they had lost almost three-quarters of the flight crews to the fire. It was a statistic that could not be realized until one had walked through their makeshift morgue and smelled the stench of what had once been your crewmates.  
  
Still, for all their tragedy, his crew had been remarkably resilient. They had taken in civilians and taught them necessary skills to bring their crew back to full force. Retired and civilian pilots had joined their ranks to fill the gap in their squadrons, and dozens of volunteers had stepped forward to rebuild their Vipers and Raptors. Others had stepped forward to begin repairs on the Galactica herself - plumbers, electricians, and various builders had come forward to repair and rebuild, and in some cases redesign.  
  
The only truly significant difference to his ship now, and his ship before the attack, was its compliment. They had doubled their capacity to accommodate all those who were able to help. While it wasn't convenient, there was no way to ensure that they did not lose men again, and the extra men might one day be essential. Men and women had been sworn into Colonial Service, and others had been commissioned as officers. Gradually, their crew had taken shape, and some of his initial fears as a military leader had been quelled.  
  
Others had just begun. There had been food shortages, space shortages, and while he could not help but rejoice at the two hundred pregnancies that had been reported since the war began, he could not help but worry about the future they were bringing children into. Still, these were concerns for tomorrow. Who was it that had said today had enough trouble of its own?  
  
A knock on his door brought his attention away from the rosters, and away from their past. There was likely another immediate difficulty to solve, so he turned towards the hatch and called a clear, "Come in."  
  
The hatch swung open to reveal one of his favorite pilots standing in the opening with an uncertain smile on her face. Yes, he had a soft spot for Kara Thrace, and he didn't mind admitting it. If he hadn't admired her for her pure nerve and strength, he would have loved her for saving his son. She was the best pilot he'd ever seen, his own family included, and that was saying something.  
  
"Am I bothering you, Sir?"  
  
"Not at all, Starbuck. Come in. Are you here to dress me down about the formalities as well?" Her jaw dropped. He nearly laughed, but settled for a smug grin. "I'll take that as a yes."  
  
"I am. concerned about the Cylon threat," she admitted. "Having all your military personnel in one place at one times seems a little counterproductive."  
  
"Have a seat, Kara," he told her gently.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"This will take a while," he admitted. "Yes, I'm mandating attendance for the majority of our military staff, but I will by no means leave duty sections unattended. You should know me better than that."  
  
She nodded her head in agreement and she took a seat on the edge of his neatly-made bunk, the only other place to sit in the cramped quarters. "I understand that, but with the rest of us in a central location, won't we be an easy target?"  
  
He thought about that for a moment. "Only if I was expecting an attack from within the Galactica," he finally said. "If our threat is indeed Cylon, then where we are located on the ship is irrelevant. If our enemy is within, then attack could come at any time, from anyone, and it doesn't matter if we're all in one room or not."  
  
"You don't think we have Cylons among us, then?"  
  
He thought about that for a moment as well, pleased that Kara had the sense to wait for answers rather than rambling on while he attempted to put his feelings into words. "I'm sure we do," he told her quietly. "In a compliment of fifty-thousand people, I'm sure more than one is a plant."  
  
"And you're not concerned?  
  
"That's a trick question," he accused. "Of course I'm concerned. But at the moment, I think the Cylons are the least of our threats. We've had more than one person break under the strain of the war. Not everyone came back from losing their friends and family, and we may yet lose more to depression, suicide, or insanity. If we don't' have some form of normalcy for people to cling to, then the situation will worsen even further."  
  
"I don't think you give us enough credit," she complained.  
  
"Perhaps I don't," he admitted. "But I can't take it for granted. I watched one of the greatest minds of our time disintegrate before me. The pressures we've undertaken could push anyone to insanity."  
  
"You're talking about Baltar?"  
  
"Among others," he said simply. "Do you realize that we have had a significant crime increase in the last few weeks? Just as we've finally secured what we need to survive, many of our people are losing the desire to do just that. Theft has always been a problem, but we're seeing an increase in murders, rapes, attacks, and a host of other violent acts. I've had to dispatch security forces to many of the ships in the fleet, just to keep people safe. Our primary threat really isn't the Cylons right now. It's ourselves."  
  
"So wouldn't it make more sense to declare a holiday or something?"  
  
"Maybe it would," he said thoughtfully. "But the brunt of the stress is on our military. You're the ones flying, patrolling, serving as security and keeping the rest of the fleet together. And you are also the ones under the greatest stress from losing co-workers, having your jobs bounced around, or in some cases changed altogether. It's our military that has suffered the most. So it follows, that the morale of our military is where we must begin."  
  
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she looked at the floor. "Isn't it the military personnel that are complaining about the celebration, though?"  
  
"Primarily," he said with a slight grin. "But for the most part, my people are the only ones I really speak with. The President manages the civilians just fine, and I'm not inclined to offer to help."  
  
"You have enough on your plate," Kara admitted.  
  
"So the award ceremony and subsequent banquet are going to happen," he told her. "Followed by as formal a dance as we can arrange, given the fact that we're holding it in a hanger bay."  
  
"Yes, Sir," she acknowledged. She stood to leave, giving him a brief smile, before she halted at the closed hatch. "Commander?"  
  
"Yes, Starbuck?"  
  
"About that dance, what's your policy on fraternization?"  
  
"Planning on asking one of our non-coms?" he asked her with a grin.  
  
"I'm asking for a friend," she admitted. "You've made your thoughts on the subject pretty clear in the briefings, but I'm not sure how the rules change when you're requiring us to have a partner."  
  
William leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling in deep thought for a moment. "I think that if our military members are - discreet - then who comes as who's partner is a matter that's up to them."  
  
"And if we don't come with a partner at all?" she asked.  
  
"Then you are missing a wonderful opportunity," he suggested. "I am requiring participation in the festivities, but don't think I plan for this to be a regular event. It has its purpose now, but we still have a long way to go before this is over."  
  
She nodded. "Have a good night, Sir."  
  
"Good night," he returned. "And Starbuck?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"See that you relay this discussion to my son. I don't want to have it again."  
  
Kara didn't turn, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Yes, Sir."  
  
Chief Tyrol took a last look at the deck schedule and cross-referenced it to the plexi-glass board before him. He had all of his Raptor's aboard, and only two Vipers yet to return from tonight's missions. Two more were already set in the port launching bay, ready to go as soon as the current patrol landed. It was good to be flying with a full crew again, even if it meant more repairs and occasional problems. Tired pilots couldn't be expected to remain indefinitely alert, and accidents had just been a matter of time. Spreading out the work meant that everyone had more rest.  
  
"Greenbean and Cowboy coming in," the CFO informed him. "Ready to launch next patrol."  
  
"Do it," he told her.  
  
He didn't bother to watch and see if his order had been followed. He knew his men - and women - and trusted them implicitly. If they occasionally got on his nerves, it was something he didn't want to dwell on.  
  
But regardless of his determination not to dwell, his gaze drifted over to his figurative right arm, Cally. She was probably the most talented mechanic he knew, at least since losing Prosna, and a decent person on top of it. She was efficient, reasonable, and fiercely loyal. Lately, she was also a royal pain in the ass.  
  
The entire ship was buzzing about the upcoming awards ceremony. Every woman he knew was pulling out old dresses, dusting off dress uniforms, and giggling about who was going with whom. It was enough to make a civilized man puke. But among all these women, his chief mechanic chose not to follow the flow and instead was riding him about fraternization with pilots.  
  
He wanted to ring her neck.  
  
He wondered if she was right.  
  
Cally was the one that was always honest with him when it came to Sharon. Cally had kept others from walking in on encounters more than once, although he hadn't known about it until later. She was also the only one of his deck crew with the guts to tell him to his face that he was out of line. The hell of it was that she was right.  
  
Okay, he was in love with Sharon Valerii, and had been for longer than he could remember. It was as though he'd taken one look at her and fallen head first in a way he didn't know was possible. It was sappy and romantic and completely unlike him. That much he would admit. The part he was less inclined to dwell on was that she was a pilot, and he was only the crew chief.  
  
It made him crazy. He'd been in the military long enough to come to respect the ranking system, and even most of the policies. Cally was right about he and Sharon; it wasn't smart. She was their division officer, and responsible for everything from their fitness reports to promotions. A relationship with her was not only blatant fraternization, but also a direct conflict of interest.  
  
It had seemed pretty harmless in the beginning. She'd been a Rook, and he'd just been showing her the ropes on the flight deck. He hadn't expected to fall for her, but it happened quickly and easily. That probably wouldn't have been an issue, except that the attraction was mutual. At one point he had even convinced himself that it was just physical - something he could get over. Then the war had begun, and he'd honestly believed that he would never see her again. It was frightening how that had put it all into perspective. Once he'd had her back, he sure as hell wasn't letting go.  
  
Unfortunately, neither one of them could leave the military to make it legal. She couldn't resign her commission when pilots were so desperately needed, and he definitely couldn't quit when some days he was all that held the flight deck together. It was an absolute mess.  
  
They were able to sneak in some time on occasion. She had brought a kid back from Caprica, Boxey, and they had essentially adopted him. No kid could be expected to live in military quarters, and it wasn't appropriate for him to stay with Sharon, so he had moved with the kid into a family unit. It wasn't bad, and the privacy was something anyone could envy. If it had made keeping Sharon close just a little easier, he hadn't questioned it.  
  
Until lately.  
  
Cally had hit him again with the whole fraternization issue last week. It wasn't that she disliked Sharon - far from it - but that she was worried about their careers. Discipline wasn't a matter of going to the brig or standing a court martial. During wartime, it was damn easy to get kicked off the Galactica for even minor offenses. Being with Sharon was walking a fine line with military law. Truthfully, it was leaning way over that line.  
  
He had tried to talk to Sharon about it, and they'd shared one of the many shouting matches that he'd become accustomed to. She had walked out. He had said some things he truly regretted. And poor Boxey was too confused to know what the hell was going on.  
  
So it had just been him and the kid lately. He missed her. Boxey missed her. And if the bed was damned cold, that was just something he was going to have to get used to. Cally had been right in a lot of ways. But she'd been wrong about one thing - the danger wasn't only professional. Being without Sharon was definitely personal.  
  
"Starbuck's Viper is set."  
  
His head jerked around and he found Cally walking up to him, a report in hand. He'd asked her to completely overhaul the plane, as much to keep her out of his hair as anything, and he hadn't expected her to finish this soon.  
  
"Any problems?" he asked.  
  
"The gimbals again," she admitted. "With all the maneuvering and bouncing around, they fly apart on about everything. We had to lock down a couple of the Raptors this morning, too. Same problem."  
  
He nodded at that. The design of the gimbals was so sensitive that it didn't take much to throw them off. Unfortunately, without them there was no balance at all to the spacecraft, nor was there any alternative that he knew of. If he could design something that would work, without constant readjustment and reworking, he could make himself a fortune. Or, he could have. Money wasn't really an issue since the war had begun.  
  
"Thanks," he told her simply. "Anything else?"  
  
She stood there for a moment, looking down, and he was reminded again just how young so many of them were to be thrust into such positions of importance. "I just wanted to apologize, Sir."  
  
That caught him off guard. "For what?"  
  
"Butting into what didn't concern me," she admitted. "About Lieutenant Valerii. It's none of my business. I'm sorry I spoke to you about it."  
  
Tyrol glanced around to make sure they weren't within hearing distance of anyone else. The bay was comfortably empty. "You spoke to me about it more than once," he accused. "Why the change of heart."  
  
She shrugged one shoulder looking embarrassed. So young. So damn young. "I ran into Sharon," she muttered. "She's almost as miserable as you are."  
  
He raised one eyebrow. "So much for staying out of my business," he muttered, and turned to leave.  
  
"Chief?" she called after him.  
  
"Is this professional?" He turned back to glare at her, reminding her without words who was in command of the flight deck.  
  
"Yes," she said simply.  
  
"Spit it out."  
  
"She's missing marks, and you're screaming at everyone. It affects everyone's job, and it's making all of us crazy."  
  
"I don't hear anyone else complaining," he growled.  
  
"You know nobody would say a word against you," she shouted, clearly frustrated. He knew the feeling. "You're practically a god around here after how you stood up to Tigh for us, and even more since you pulled this deck together from spare parts. No one is going to question you."  
  
"Except you."  
  
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and lowered her voice. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm sorry I butted in, and I'm sorry I yelled, and I'm sorry that I care about the frakking rules. I wish I could just blow it off like everyone else, but you're the one that taught me that rules were there for a reason, and if anyone could understand why I'd be worried, I would think it would be you."  
  
Chief Tyrol took a deep breath, echoing Cally's action. Then he took another. And another. "I know you mean well," he finally said. "I appreciate your concern. I've just had enough of it."  
  
She looked just a little shattered at that, and he had to admit he'd been harsh. But she was right about one thing. He was miserable, and at that point in time he really didn't care if everyone else was as well.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Get back to work," he told her calmly.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"And put Starbuck back on the roster," he called out as she walked away. "Keeping her grounded when her bird's ready is asking for trouble."  
  
Cally turned back, nodded, and then silently turned back to walk away. 


	3. Daily Routine

Chapter 3  
  
As Kara Thrace eased herself quietly through the hatch into pilot's quarters, she closed her eyes and tried to get them to adjust to the dimmed lights. It was past curfew, and most of her friends were asleep inside.  
  
Once her eyes had accustomed themselves to the lowered lighting, she walked carefully down the narrow aisle to her own bottom bunk. It wasn't as easy as it had once been. She had retained her own bunk, but the aisle was now the location of several other sleeping units, portable bunks for the new arrivals. It turned an eight-foot aisle into two two-and-a-half foot passages, and managed to increase the sleeping capacity of the room by over a third. She was just glad she wasn't in one of the units. They were the same size as her own bunk, but open on both sides and offering no privacy to either top or bottom occupant. At least in her bunk she could hang up a towel and pretend for a moment that twenty other bodies weren't within calling distance.  
  
She finally reached her bunk and sat down on its edge. It took her only a moment to remove her boots and pull back the covers. She didn't bother with changing out of her uniform. There really wasn't a point.  
  
She heard a rustling above her, and the slight muttering of a familiar voice. She held her breath and waited, but the dreaded sound came again. She tried her best to wait it out, but at this rate his nightmare would have half the room awake, and she knew he wouldn't appreciate that. Tossing back her covers, she stood up and reached to the bunk that was atop hers. She kept her distance, not wanting to get smacked if he didn't wake immediately, but reached out to grasp his shoulder nonetheless.  
  
"Lee," she said in a whisper. "Come on, wake up, Lee."  
  
He struggled a minute, then awoke with a jerk and a gasp, but thankfully without swinging fists. She didn't back up, but rather stepped closer now that he was relatively alert. "You okay?"  
  
He took a gulping breath, and then another, before nodding and easing back onto his pillow. "Thanks," he said in a whisper as quiet as hers.  
  
Kara nodded and got back into her bunk. She and Lee had an unspoken agreement that nightmares were to be ended at the first opportunity. They never talked about the things that haunted their sleep, but at the very least they did their best to keep it from the rest of their teammates. Most of the others had similar agreements with those around them. It was bad enough to manage your own nightmares without taking on those of your friends as well. They all needed their sleep.  
  
She still listened closely to the bunk above her. Some nights he couldn't get back to sleep, and usually she slipped out of bed to walk with him until the ghosts had passed. Other nights he did the same for her. It was always easier to shake the night demons when you were with a friend. Tonight though, he shifted a bit and became quiet. He was going back to sleep. A few moments later, she let out a grateful breath that she hadn't been aware she was holding, and rolled over to do the same.  
  
Morning came early in the pilot's quarters. Softly buzzing alarms and not so softly talking officers made sleeping in an impossibility. Kara was actually glad. She would get enough sleep when she was dead. That seemed to happen soon enough for most of them.  
  
Morbid thoughts. She didn't remember her dreams, but she doubted they had been good. This passing thought sparked a memory, and she sat up to rub her face and peek at the bunk above her. Lee was just beginning to stir, so he must have managed to keep himself asleep through the night. That was a good thing. He was a pain in the ass when he was tired.  
  
She stood up and grabbed her boots from beneath the bed with one hand. "Morning," she told him simply, trying to stifle a yawn.  
  
He did the same, and replied with a muffled, "Good morning."  
  
"Good remains to be seen," she reminded him.  
  
He grinned at the familiar exchange. There wasn't much good about the destruction of her world, but she had to admit that it was nice to be around Lee again. She missed her fallen friends desperately, but at the very least her closest friend was alive and well, and had taken the bunk above hers. She thought it was pretty sweet, really, but she'd never tell him that. Instead, she had harassed him about not being able to stay away from her and he had responded by hitting her in the face with one of the shirts he had been in the process of putting away.  
  
It was an easy camaraderie though, and one she enjoyed. It reminded her of a time before the world had ended, when she'd just been a troubled kid with a foggy past. For some reason, that was easier than being a flashy pilot with a penchant for cigars and cards. Being around Lee was comfortable.  
  
She walked down the narrowed aisle to her locker - thankfully hers alone since they had installed more along another wall of the quarters - and reached inside it for her bag even as she dumped her boots in. She carried the webbed bag of toiletries towards the showers, and paused as she approached the line.  
  
While adding bunks and lockers had been a possibility, adding additional shower stalls and toilets had not been. The result was a daily wait to take care of business, one way or another. Thankfully, everyone was pretty considerate of their teammates, and showers were quick and efficient. Kara spent only ten minutes in the line, then slipped into a stall to strip, shower quickly, and wash her hair. That done, she wrapped the towel she'd grabbed on her way in around her and left the shower stall with a resounding, "Next."  
  
Someone took her place as she moved to the sinks, dropping her uniform in the laundry bin as she did so. There were more sinks than showers, and it was considerably easier to share, so she slipped in next to a friend to brush her teeth.  
  
"Late night, Starbuck?"  
  
She shook her head, but didn't speak as she had a mouth full of toothpaste.  
  
Rand grinned as he rinsed cream from his razor, preparing to take another swipe at his face. "You weren't around when Captain Apollo came in," he told her. "I just wondered if you'd gotten into trouble again."  
  
She spit out her toothpaste before turning a mild glare on him. "What does his arrival have to do with me being in trouble?"  
  
"Nothing," he admitted. "You two just usually hang together."  
  
She rinsed her mouth out quickly, then wiped her face with the tail of her towel. "You trying to say something?" she said, facing him squarely.  
  
"I didn't say a thing," Rand told her, looking legitimately confused. It was that ignorance that saved his butt as far as she was concerned. She considered him a friend, and a special one as he'd been a part of her original squadron before the war, but she wasn't taking insinuations from anyone. She'd taken enough ribbing from the rest over being friends with the new CAG, and she was getting royally sick of it.  
  
She supposed it was her own damn fault. She had kept a careful distance from everyone since joining the Colonial Service. She'd been "just one of the guys" for so long that she thought nothing of it. Each man she knew was treated with the respect they earned and nothing more. Occasionally she made a friend or two, but even that had been limited. Her mouth tended to put her on the offensive more often than not, and most guys didn't bother to stick around for the abuse.  
  
Everyone had seemed to pick up that Lee was different. She respected him, as was obviously apparent in her not questioning every order he gave, and she did treat him a little differently. She'd grown up with him, so it was impossible not to act just a little more comfortably around him. Unfortunately, her teammates were a perceptive lot, and they noticed that while she gave him as much verbal sparring as any other man, there was an underlying affection that was pretty hard to miss. She didn't just respect Lee. She liked him.  
  
Her liking him might not have been such an issue if he hadn't been the Commander's son. Despite his higher rank, simply being an Adama made placed him under suspicion and ridicule from his pilots until he'd earned his place. It wasn't anything against him, but rather a respect for the previous CAG combined with his natural reserve. Lee was a serious one, and he didn't make friends as readily as some people. Kara figured that he needed to keep what friends he already had.  
  
But in the Service, any weakness was exploited. Somehow they had figured out that Lee was hers. Maybe it was because she didn't mouth off against him the way she had previous authority figures. Maybe it was that she ran with him in the mornings, and ate with him when the opportunity presented itself. Maybe it was just that she used his first name, something that was pretty rare among a group that lived by call signs. Maybe they were right and she was just getting soft. Whatever it was, she found herself squelching rumors on a daily basis and it was getting on her nerves.  
  
"He's a friend," she said tiredly. "You're a friend. Sharon's a friend. Evan and Castor are friends, too."  
  
"All I said," Rand reiterated, "was that you weren't with him last night. You came in late. I'm not sure where the rest of this crap is coming from."  
  
Kara looked at him for a moment before reaching in her net bag for a comb. "Sorry," she muttered. "I've just had it with some of the ribbing."  
  
She combed her hair back off her face, for what it was worth. It would dry and fall back in her eyes within the hour, but maybe she could get through her run without it being in her way. She left Rand to his sink, grateful that she didn't have to shave daily, and walked back to her locker. She selected a clean undershirt and underwear and dressed quickly. She wasn't bashful in the locker room, but she wasn't an exhibitionist either. She tugged on her shorts and clean socks, then put on her running shoes.  
  
She met Lee by their bunks, where he was stretching in preparation for the run. "You ready?" he asked. He was usually ready before her due to her penchant for taking an early shower, but he never complained. She liked that about him, too.  
  
She shrugged one shoulder. "Ready and willing. Let's see if you can keep up, today."  
  
With no more than that, she opened the hatch and eased into a gentle jog to warm up. A very confused Lee fell into step beside her, and the morning began.  
  
Breakfast in the Officer's Mess wasn't a treat. Lee tried not to grimace as he pushed reconstituted protein around on his plate, remembering fondly the eggs and bacon that he used to enjoy. Kara wasn't doing much better with her plate, but at least her expression was clear.  
  
She might have started the morning off as a grump - not an uncommon thing - but she had cheered considerably as they had run through the Galactica's passageways. He had to admit that it was quite a workout as they climbed steps and dodged people. It reminded him of when they had run at the academy, up early so as not to get caught out of bed before they had permission. She had always liked to run in the mornings. It struck him as odd, because she wasn't really a "morning" person. He had learned early that she needed one of three things to be civil: coffee, a shower, or a run.  
  
He was normally fairly alert right off the bat. He got that from his mother, he supposed. Kara had always seemed to resent an early morning smile, so he had learned to keep some reserve around her. At least until after she ran.  
  
But for the moment she just looked lost. She wasn't eating, but neither was she rearranging her less than palatable meal. She was simply staring across the room, eyes unfocused, a blob of protein hanging off the edge of her fork.  
  
"You there?" he finally asked her.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You awake in there?" he asked again.  
  
"Sure. Why?"  
  
He finally grinned. "Your breakfast is getting away," he remarked, even as the blob finally lost its battle with gravity and landed on her plate with a slight plop.  
  
"Just thinking," she admitted sheepishly.  
  
"About?"  
  
"This ceremony," she said. "I'm wondering if I can talk the Commander into leaving me on patrol so I don't have to show up."  
  
Lee shook his head. "Not likely. They're awarding clusters, and if anyone is likely to get one for fancy flying, it's you."  
  
"So that would mean dress uniforms," she reasoned.  
  
He took another bite of the flavorless food and nodded. "Full dress. Semi- formal for the civilians."  
  
She took a deep breath, let it out, and pushed her plate away. He couldn't blame her. On the last couple of planets, they had managed to set up a hydroponics ship and a farming ship, but it would be a long time before anything more than the synthetic nutritional supplements was common. That was one of the draws of the awards ceremony. There was supposed to be a banquet with real food. It would be worth showing up for just that.  
  
Kara had told him during their run that his father was going through with the formalities. While he understood a good deal of the reasoning, up to a point, he felt there had to be more to it that his father wasn't telling. Still, his father wasn't a man to change his mind once he'd made a decision, so that meant that a ceremony, banquet, and dance were all imminent.  
  
"My uniform doesn't fit," Kara told him with a grimace.  
  
He glanced at her and nodded. It was nothing he didn't suspect. "You've lost weight," he reasoned. "It's because you don't eat."  
  
"You don't either," she complained as she finally put down her fork. It didn't really matter; she wasn't eating anyway.  
  
"It's disgusting," he agreed. "But it's just for a while longer. The hydro-ships are doing pretty well, and there should be fresh vegetables and fruits pretty soon. You can't grow a garden overnight."  
  
"Nutritionally complete synthetic protein," she grumbled. "What kind of an idiot thought this stuff up?"  
  
"Be grateful," he reminded her. Some of the ships didn't even have that at first. We lost more than a few people to starvation before we got to the Nebulous region. Life-sustaining planets aren't common."  
  
"You always did love to lecture," she told him, shoving her plate away. "You should have stayed at the academy."  
  
Lee pushed his own food away before looking up at her. Any appetite he'd had was gone now. "I couldn't," he said simply. "I saw him around every corner."  
  
Kara's gaze flashed to his and he could see the apology in her eyes before she said a word. "God, I'm sorry, Lee," she said quickly. "I swear I don't think."  
  
"It's okay," he told her softly, reaching over to pat the hand she had offered in apology. "In a way, it's kind of nice. I don't ever want to forget that I had a brother. You're about the only other person who knew him, so it helps in a dumb way. That doesn't mean I want to remember every time I look around, though."  
  
She nodded, then took a deep breath. He could tell she was debating whether or not to speak, so he didn't really know if he wanted to hear it. "There aren't many people on board who knew him. Your father and I don't really bring it up because it upsets him. Sometimes it feels like." She thought for a moment then continued. "It feels like I dreamed him or something. Like he was never real."  
  
Lee knew the feeling. Immediately following the funeral, the mention of Zak's name had been enough to send him into a rage. Any friends that stuck around learned quickly to avoid the subject. In recent months, as rage had been replaced by simple sadness and regret, he just didn't have anyone to talk to about it. He had spent twenty years being a big brother, and now he often felt that it was all in his head. No one he was around now really knew, or cared. Kara did. It was a link they shared that was all the stronger for being in the background. They didn't make an issue of it very often, but Zak's memory affected them both.  
  
"He was real," Lee told her softly. "No one could imagine that big a pain in the butt." At her grin, he continued. "It's getting easier to remember him. It's probably just that I'm getting used to being without him, and knowing that he would probably be gone now anyway, just like Mom is. There was a lot of good stuff, though. That's what I try to remember."  
  
"He was worth remembering," she agreed.  
  
They sat there a moment, each in their own thoughts, but comfortable in their silence. Lee finally reached over and pushed Kara's plate back towards her. "You do need to eat," he told her seriously. "You can't fly if you're passing out from hunger."  
  
She glared at the plate, but obligingly picked up her fork and took a couple of bites. "This really is bad," she complained.  
  
Lee took another bite of his and thought that bad was an understatement. But they needed the food to keep up their strength, and this was what was available. "Eat it anyway," he told her after he had cleaned his plate. "It looks like we're going to have to go to a dance, and the uniforms might as well fit." 


	4. Emergency

Chapter 4  
  
"Lieutenant Starbuck, proceed with landing on Deck two."  
  
"Roger that," Kara told the disembodied voice on her wireless. She thought it sounded like Dualla, but she might have been wrong. Her wireless was acting up, and she was getting an awful lot of static. Thankfully she didn't need to be told what to do. "Port deck two, I have the ball."  
  
She glided into the bay on minimal thrusters before easing herself down to the deck. She felt the magnetic lock engage, and powered down the engine. She had her cockpit open and her helmet off before the steel ladder could be set up by her wing. It was all routine: the patrol, the landing, and the adrenaline drop that followed.  
  
She fought the surge of anger that always accompanied the end of a flight. She didn't know why she was always furious when she hit the flight deck, but she assumed it had to do with the adrenaline rush that went with flight. She didn't mind it really, and had come to expect it. Some pilots got out of a bird ready for sex. She got out ready to fight.  
  
A glance to her right showed the lift coming down from deck one. Rand was one of those that came off a flight on an unnatural high. She had learned to stay clear of him. He would be on the lookout for anything female, and she didn't want to be in the line of fire. He was one of her few friends that had survived the beginning of the war, and she didn't want to lose him to a fight.  
  
Cally locked her ladder into place and removed the helmet collar. "Everything go okay?" she asked. It was part of the routine.  
  
"The wireless has a lot of static," Kara told her. "Probably has a wire crossed or something."  
  
"We'll take care of it," Cally said efficiently.  
  
Kara nodded as she climbed down the ladder and began walking towards the metal stairwell that would take her up to the ready room. Over half-way there, she spotted Chief Tyrol leaning against a wall and watching his crew work. She would bet that he was on a break, and was still here in the bay. It was just how he was. He trusted his crew, but he liked to be accessible if there were problems.  
  
"How's it going?" she called as she changed direction and began walking towards him.  
  
He looked up at her and offered a smile. "It's going well," he admitted. "That's what has me worried."  
  
"You're worse than I am," she remarked, leaning against the wall next to him and watching the bay as he was. "Always waiting for the other shoe to drop."  
  
"And I'm rarely disappointed," he reminded her. "How's my bird?"  
  
"My bird's fine," she told him with a sideways glance. "The fuel dispersion is much smoother, and acceleration is fine. Cally knows her stuff."  
  
"She should; I trained her."  
  
"Wireless is giving me trouble," she admitted.  
  
"She'll take care of it."  
  
Kara nodded. She followed his gaze across the bay and saw that he was indeed watching Cally as she climbed into the Viper and began working with the radio. She could almost feel the pride coming off Tyrol in waves. He really cared about his crew, and he took it just as personally when they did well as when they screwed up. Most of the crew had come on within a year of the Galactica's decommissioning, so they had been Rooks when the war began. They weren't any longer. Those that had survived were as good as they came, and she knew that the Chief had played a large roll in that.  
  
"So, you getting ready for the dance?" she asked, turning to face him.  
  
He didn't return the favor. "I have a crew to supervise," he told her. "I'm sure some of them will go, because it's required, but I won't be there."  
  
Kara waited a moment, selecting her words carefully. She knew she was walking a fine line between professionalism and friendship, but she also knew that her rank would keep her pretty safe from the Chief's retribution. "Sharon's up for a silver cluster," she said. "I got a sneak-peak at the awards sheet. She might like to have you there when she gets it."  
  
"It's deserved," he said softly. "She got her Raptor to Caprica, repaired it, and rescued a number of people afterwards. It wasn't a bad show for a Rook."  
  
"She turned into a good pilot," Kara agreed. "I wasn't sure she would when she was at the academy. She was determined, but she tended to freeze up in simulations. That's why I put her in for Raptors. I figured she'd have more time to think and keep herself straight."  
  
"It was a good call," he agreed.  
  
"She's a lot better now," Kara continued. "Might even do well training for Vipers."  
  
"You'll have to talk to the CAG about that. We have a full roster, so I don't think there's any training scheduled."  
  
She could hear the tightness in his voice, so she didn't press - much. "It's just easier to bring in recruits for Raptors. If we need to free a slot, that's a way."  
  
He didn't answer at all. She didn't expect him to.  
  
"Oh, and I wanted to let you know something. It's off the record."  
  
He looked at her then, but didn't speak.  
  
"The Commander isn't holding us to rank for the banquet and dance. We can go with who we want to."  
  
Tyrol looked at her for a moment more, then flashed a smile. "Are you asking me on a date?" he joked.  
  
"Yeah, right," she returned. "Just wanted you to know." With her piece said, she turned back towards the stairwell and started up. She was nearly to the top when she chanced a peak back down towards the Chief. He was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Lee Adama looked in the mirror and grimaced. They all had lost weight. He just hadn't realized how much until he'd pulled out a dress uniform in his size and tried it on. It was huge.  
  
It took two more tries before he found one that fit. The man looking back from the mirror was too thin, pale, and definitely needed to do some rethinking of both diet and exercise. He was healthy enough - the flight surgeon saw to that - but six months of stress, lousy food, and irregular schedules had cost him some pounds that he couldn't afford. He wasn't the only one.  
  
Immediately following the jump from Ragnar, in preparation for the funeral services, all uniforms on the Galactica had been inventoried and placed in a central locker. They had retained their flight suits, which stayed in the ready room with their helmets, but working uniforms became community property that were laundered and returned to the locker. They picked them up when they needed them, and discarded them into laundry bins when finished. The dress uniforms were likewise collected, and this had been the first time he'd had a need for one since the massive funeral at the beginning of the war.  
  
It was very efficient, and with all of them essentially living on duty it had made sense. There were new recruits showing up almost daily, and many of their complement was now dead. Uniforms had to be distributed and laundered in a practical fashion. And if it kept him from having to do his own laundry, that was more than fine with him.  
  
But it had kept him from realizing just how much he had changed. Kara had too, as she'd mentioned that morning. He knew that she had snagged her own uniform and left it in her locker rather than turning it into the pile. He couldn't blame her. The uniform had been brand new, and a perfect fit. She was going to have to hit the uniform locker as well.  
  
He changed back into his working uniform and tossed the formal one over his arm. He checked out with the young lady at the front chair - she didn't even have a desk - and headed back towards his quarters. Just before reaching the door, he heard footsteps behind him.  
  
"Captain Apollo?" she called.  
  
"Madame President," he acknowledged with a nod. "What can I do for you."  
  
"I wanted to give you the awards listing for your pilots. As CAG, you'll be presenting them."  
  
He nodded as he took the list from her. "This is a lot of awards," he commented, some surprise in his voice. This was just the pilots.  
  
"We have a lot of pilots that deserve to be recognized."  
  
"Yes, we do."  
  
"I realize that you're still getting to know your squadrons, but if you could please say something about the recipients - something more than just 'here it is, you earned it,' I would really appreciate it."  
  
"I'll see what I can do."  
  
"Thank you, Captain. I see you're already getting prepared for the celebration." She gestured towards the uniform draped over his arm.  
  
"It looks that way," he admitted.  
  
"But you aren't happy about it."  
  
He didn't see a reason to argue. "I think the situation is still a little serious to be celebrating."  
  
She nodded, placing one hand against the passageway wall and leaning slightly. "I had this same discussion with the Commander. Please keep in mind that there is more to living than mere survival. If we aren't willing to truly live, then we are no better than the machines that are after us."  
  
"I understand that."  
  
"But you don't agree?"  
  
He took a deep breath and answered honestly. "I don't know. I guess I've been so concentrated on surviving, and keeping this fleet intact, that there hasn't been room for anything else. Changing gears is difficult."  
  
President Roslyn nodded, and seemed to cling to the wall for a moment before she regained her feet and released it. He was on the verge of reaching out to help her when she pulled herself up and spoke. "I need to get back my office. I left a stack of work that needs to be done."  
  
She still looked wobbly, but it wasn't his place to say anything. If his responsibilities were weighing on him, he couldn't imagine what she must be going through. His father had called her a school teacher, and at heart he supposed that was what she was. She was far too soft for her current position. She was too much the optimist, and not enough of a strategist.  
  
He watched her until she made it to the bend in the passageway and disappeared from sight. For a president, she was very accessible to her people. On his father's demand, she was staying on the Galactica where they could at least have security personnel close to her. Lee still felt that she probably needed more than they gave her, but he wasn't sure how much of his opinion was based in fact, and how much had to do with tradition.  
  
Lee went into quarters. It was buzzing with quiet chatter and constant movement. There was nothing like trying to live with thirty of your closest friends. He wished that was what they were. Instead, he was living with twenty-eight men and women that were under his direct command. This was one of three pilot's quarters that had been set up, each about the same size and housing a full squadron.  
  
His father had given him the option of his own room, but at the time space had been an issue. He hadn't felt comfortable staying with his father, so he'd decided to bunk with the pilots. It wasn't difficult choosing which of the quarters to make his home. He knew only a few people aboard, and those were all in Blue Squadron, so that was where he had chosen to be. At the time, he had been able to select from a dozen empty bunks. He had picked out the one above Kara because she was at least a friendly face.  
  
A week later, they had moved in additional beds to enlarge the squadron from twenty to thirty. The Galactica's five squadrons were paired down to three, each with enough personnel to maintain a quadrant rotation. He had worked with Tyrol on setting up a schedule, and for those first months they had worked themselves ragged. There had been little food, no fuel, and an oppressive atmosphere that bordered on threatening.  
  
He had not been well liked. Part of it had been because he was new to the ship and taking over for Starbuck, who probably should have been promoted from within. Another part had been that he was in charge, and therefore responsible for every decision that they disagreed with, every duty that they didn't want. The final blow had been that his father was the commander. It was one of the reasons he had never sought to work on his father's ship - he didn't need the hassles that being the Commander's son brought.  
  
But he was the senior officer, and so he'd taken the job. He had never been one to step down from responsibility. Thankfully, Kara had given him her complete and obvious trust, and that had swayed a lot of Blue Squadron. Red and Yellow had come around eventually, but it had taken time. He'd had to prove himself by taking some of the worst duties, and personally flying with each pilot on several occasions so that he could be sure that flight commanders, trainers, and even the weaker members of the squadrons were appropriately placed. The one thing he had not done was separate the original squadron survivors. He had dispersed the two dissolved squadrons - a total of only nine men - to Red and Yellow squadrons, and he had kept them together with teammates as well. Everyone needed someone to cling to, and he tried to give them that.  
  
Even in this, Kara had been a huge help. It hadn't always been overt, but subtle remarks given about what was working and what might help. He had learned early on that she had a feel for those that she flew with, and she was very good at judging where people felt comfortable. He found it more than ironic, because she often seemed so uncomfortable herself.  
  
He wished that she would smile more. That was a pretty trivial thing given the seriousness of their situation, but it was something that his mind kept returning to. The Kara he had grown up with had both a ready smile and an adventurous spirit. The Kara he knew now was serious, intent, and quieter than he remembered. It was more than just losing her fiancée, too. She had smiled after that, joked around and been herself. Now she worried about the squad, worried about his father, and worried about him.  
  
And she rarely smiled. Even when she did, it never quite reached her eyes.  
  
None of them really smiled anymore. Looking around the quarters, he saw small groups talking or single pilots resting. There was no laughter, and less energy. The little enthusiasm he had heard had indeed been over the upcoming ceremony, and yes he had seen a few smiles from younger officers and enlisted personnel who took this to mean that they must be safe.  
  
Maybe his father had a point. Maybe they did need to stop existing and start living. Maybe this could be a first step. God, he hoped so. Something had to bring this group back from the dead.  
  
Lee grabbed the metal ladder and pulled himself up to his bunk. He tossed the dress uniform down at the foot of the bed and leaned up against the wall at the head. He was tired. He hadn't slept much the night before. After Kara had awoken him, his mind had kept returning to Caprica where his mother had died without even knowing that her family was going to pull itself together. She had been so upset with him the last time he'd seen her. She had tried to get him to call his father, to talk to him. To forgive him. She had believed as Lee had, that the eldest Adama had been responsible for placing Zak where he didn't belong, but she hadn't held it against him. For all her frustration with raising a family alone and doing everything herself, she hadn't had anything except love for his father. At the time it had infuriated him. How he wished he could tell her that she was right. She had always been right. And how she was gone.  
  
So many were gone. Even six months later the emptiness was still apparent. He wondered if it was ever going to go away.  
  
The buzz of the claxon startled him from a half-doze. He jerked himself upright even as the phone on the wall was grabbed by a nearby pilot.  
  
"Captain Apollo, they need you on the port deck immediately. There's been an accident."  
  
He was down from the bunk within a heartbeat, thankful that he hadn't bothered to take off his boots before climbing up to the bed. He took off for the hanger at a run, hearing the medical crews and fire crews requested on the ship's overhead speakers. He passed through one corridor, opened a hatch, and slid down the stairwell with his hands on the railing. His feet didn't touch the ground. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that while an emergency had been declared, Action Stations had not been called. This was not an enemy attack.  
  
As he made his way into the port flight deck, he saw what the emergency was. Smoke was billowing from the back of a Raptor as fire crews tried to douse the flames. Medical personnel were standing by, waiting for an all- clear so that they could do their job. His crew chief was doing his best to command the situation with a look of pure panic on his face. Lee didn't need to get close enough to see her name on the side of the Raptor to know that it was Sharon in there. Boomer and Hawk were on the roster for Blue Squadron. Lee had put them there himself.  
  
"Get that fire out," Tyrol yelled from his position near the forward hatch to the Raptor. He stepped closer, was backed up by the heat, and he screamed at them again in frustration. "Port engine. Douse the port engine. We'll need some coolers over here to get the hatch open."  
  
Lee made it to the accident scene in a few more steps and grabbed Tyrol's shoulder. He understood how the man felt, and would likely be acting the same way if he'd been in the Chief's shoes, but staying calm would be essential to getting anyone out alive. "What happened?"  
  
"We think it's a fuel leak," Tyrol yelled over the roar of fire hoses and yells of emergency personnel. "Get up near the hatch!"  
  
Lee forcibly turned Tyrol around, demanding his attention. "What started the fire?" His hand remained in place, ensuring that he kept the Chief's attention off the rescue efforts behind him.  
  
"Sharon reported in that they were losing power. She brought the Raptor in early, and when she came onto the deck she hit the landing pod and ignited the fuel. The back of the Raptor went up when the fire hit the fuel cell."  
  
"Any other injuries?" Lee asked him, keeping his attention diverted. The crews were finally to the hatch, and he didn't want Tyrol in the way. "Has the fire spread?"  
  
"Negative," the Chief reported, but he was resisting the steady pressure to his shoulder and trying to turn around. Lee finally let him, and immediately wished he hadn't.  
  
The medics were just now bringing out the stretcher, and Hawk wasn't looking very good. Burns were evident on his face and arms, and an oxygen mask was covering his mouth and nose. He grabbed Tyrol's arm as a second team came out of the Raptor with Boomer on an identical stretcher. With the medics positioned where they were, he couldn't see her face, but he assumed it was similar to Hawk's.  
  
"Chief!"  
  
"Yes, Sir," he answered, but his mind was elsewhere. The only thing keeping his body there was Lee's hand.  
  
"You can't leave the deck until it's secure," he said firmly. The look on Tyrol's face gave him a moment's pause, and he was reminded that this was more than just a pilot who had been injured. There were no secrets on battleships. "Get Cally," he informed the furious man. "Make sure she's set, then you can report to the infirmary. They'll need a while to get her checked anyway, so they won't let you in there. Secure the flight deck first."  
  
He looked like he wanted to argue, but he managed to restrain himself. With a single nod, Chief Tyrol yanked his arm from Lee's and headed in the opposite direction of where they were carrying Sharon. Lee took a deep breath, closed his eyes to say a silent prayer for his team, and then headed towards the smoldering plane. 


	5. Recovery

Chapter 5  
  
Sharon Valerii gulped another breath of oxygen and began another fit of coughing. When she finished, she inhaled, and the process began again. She didn't think she'd ever be able to catch her breath.  
  
"Slow, shallow breaths," Cassie recommended. "Your lungs are tender from all the smoke and fumes, so it'll take a while before you can breathe deeply. Little breaths, and you'll stop the coughing."  
  
Sharon followed her directions out of desperation. She stopped trying to breathe, and looked around the room to get her bearings. She had been disoriented since they put her on the stretcher. Now she realized that she'd been taken to the infirmary. A medical technician, she thought his name was Kenny, was putting an IV into her left arm while Cassie took her blood pressure on the other. The ceiling and walls were the typical gray of the Galactica, but the equipment was a shiny silver. It struck her as odd. On an aircraft, they used nothing shiny so as to reduce the possibility of detection.  
  
She looked around her and didn't see her partner. The last thing she remembered from the flight was hitting the edge of the landing pod as she came in because the vertical thrusters wouldn't respond. She remembered a flash of light, and then everything was fuzzy until she'd regained consciousness beneath Hawk's body. She had tried to call for help then - he hadn't been moving and she had been terrified - but all she could do was cough. She couldn't lift him to move, and she had honestly thought she was going to die there.  
  
"Better," Cassie said in approval, her blond hair swinging as she turned to look up at a monitor. "You do okay when you aren't trying too hard."  
  
Sharon took another tiny breath, then attempted to talk. "Hawk?"  
  
Cassie briefly looked at her, and then away. "He's been taken to the life station," she finally said. "His burns were too serious for the infirmary."  
  
Sharon tried to talk again, but wound up with a coughing fit. When it eased, she whispered, "Okay?"  
  
The med tech used a damp cloth to wipe ash from Sharon's face before she answered. "He's burned badly," she admitted. "And his lungs are in the same shape as yours. Doctor Salik wanted to be able to put him on life support if he needed to. He should be fine, but it's going to take a while."  
  
Sharon nodded her understanding, and closed her eyes. She knew that Hawk wouldn't have been burned nearly so bad if he hadn't been trying to protect her. She had a flash of memory of his telling her to get down, then grabbing her and tossing her beneath him, but it was still blurry in her mind.  
  
A brief commotion caught her attention and she opened her eyes. Tyrol was standing in the doorway of the infirmary and being blocked by Kenny. She reached up a hand, the one with the IV in it, but couldn't get any words out. Cassie seemed to understand.  
  
"Let him in," she advised. "It's okay."  
  
He pushed past Kenny a little more roughly than was necessary to come to a stop by Sharon's cot. "God," he began, but his voice was too rough to go on.  
  
Sharon reached up and grasped his hand, oblivious to the tubing that was taped to her hand. He grabbed her hand gently, squeezing slightly, and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. It was the only part of her face exposed by the oxygen mask. "You okay?" he finally asked. Then, looking up at Cassie, "Is she okay?"  
  
"She swallowed a lot of smoke," the tech told him. "But it doesn't look like the damage to her lungs will be permanent. No significant burns, either. She got really lucky."  
  
Tyrol rested his forehead against hers, his breathing just a little irregular. "Thank the Lords," he whispered. "I thought I'd lost you."  
  
Sharon wanted to say something, to tell him how glad she was to see him, to warn him that he shouldn't be here, but her throat was raw and her breathing was still unsteady, and damn-it she wanted him here. So instead she found her eyes blurring as tears began that she just couldn't stop.  
  
He noticed right away. "Are you okay? Are you hurting?"  
  
At his frantic look, she shook her head as much as she could with the mask around her face. She wanted to tell him so much, but the words just weren't there.  
  
"It's probably just reaction," Cassie said quietly. "I haven't found any serious burns. Her flight suit kept her pretty safe. I do need to get it off, though. Chief, I'll need you to leave."  
  
Sharon watched as Tyrol looked her in the eye, closed his, and then met her gaze with a determined expression. "It's nothing I haven't seen before," he told Cassie simply. "If you want me out of here, you'd better call security."  
  
Cassie looked at him a moment, her gaze assessing, and then looked to Sharon. "You okay with that?"  
  
Sharon nodded quickly, her grip on his hand tightening.  
  
"So be it," Cassie told them on a sigh. "Get the door, Ken. We don't need a room full of people."  
  
The tech nodded and closed the hatch of the infirmary, then Cassie stepped towards Sharon with scissors in hand to see if they had missed any injuries.  
  
Kara sat on her bunk and shuffled the cards she held. She shuffled again, then laid them out in a solitary game of Single Pyramid. She looked for patterns, moved cards, and looked again. She was bored out of her mind.  
  
Most of the squadron was asleep. There were two on patrol, and another two on the deck, but the rest of them were essentially confined to quarters until they figured out what had brought Sharon's Raptor down.  
  
She had been down to the infirmary to see Sharon a couple of hours earlier, but the techs had run her off, saying that Sharon was sleeping. She had also checked in on Hawk, but he had been on a breather. He looked awful from what she could see, more bandages than anything else, but she hadn't really been close enough to tell.  
  
She had wound up back in quarters, wondering what was going on down in the landing bay and knowing that she could find out if she really wanted to press things. She was fairly close to the Commander, and if she went to him he would likely let her down there, but she didn't want to have to deal with Lee if she pushed the advantage. He was running the investigation, and he wouldn't appreciate her interference. Still, keeping her nose out of it was just about the hardest thing she had ever done. It was well past midnight, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep until she knew the situation.  
  
It was several hours later when Lee came in, looking far beyond tired and into miserable. He was moving slowly, like an old man. He had to be exhausted. Kara stood just as he reached their bunks. He didn't even startle.  
  
"How's Sharon?" she whispered.  
  
"Fine," he said wearily. "And they're taking Hawk off the breather in the morning."  
  
She nodded her understanding. "How'd the investigation go?"  
  
"It was the fuel line," Lee said on a yawn. "It looks like the seal corroded and the line let loose. Tyrol has them tearing down the rest of the Raptors and checking seals, then he'll do the same on the Vipers. It was just an accident."  
  
"Thank the Lords," she muttered as Lee leaned against the ladder to his bed. "I hoped it wasn't pilot error, but."  
  
"Yeah, I know. This way is a lot more work, but I'm glad it isn't on Sharon."  
  
"How's the Chief?"  
  
"He's holding it together," Lee admitted. "But that's about it. He got back to the deck about an hour ago. He told me Sharon was sleeping and he wanted to relieve Cally. Short of sending him to the brig, I couldn't tell him no."  
  
He had sunk down onto her bunk now, and was leaning against the ladder on his right, eyes barely open. She couldn't help asking, "And how are you?"  
  
"I'm just tired," he whispered. "I didn't feel like I could leave until we knew what had happened and made damn sure it wouldn't happen again. One of the joys of being CAG. Until I knew that Sharon was in the clear, I just couldn't leave it to the deck crews."  
  
She looked him over again, from eyes drooping closed to his slumped posture. She hadn't seen him this tired since the early days of their flight from the Cylons, when he would work himself two and three days straight on only a few hours sleep. Some days he didn't know when to quit.  
  
"Take my bunk," she offered. "It's closer."  
  
"Hmmm?" he mumbled, half-asleep sitting up with one hand on the ladder.  
  
"Just go to sleep, Lee," she whispered, giving him a slight shove so that he would lay down. When she moved her cards out of his way and put them on the shelf at the head of her bed, he did so with surprisingly little resistance. She nudged at him until he was more or less comfortable on the bunk, then she grabbed a blanket from the stack by the door to toss over him. It was easier than trying to get the covers from beneath him. With him settled, she hoisted herself up the ladder and made herself comfortable in his bed. Her last thought before falling asleep was that she hoped she didn't roll over in the night. It was a long way down.  
  
Commander Adama made it a point to visit with any crew member that was admitted to the life station or infirmary. It was something he had done for years, and just one way of keeping himself close to his crew. When they were there due to an accident or equipment failure that occurred while in the line of duty, he felt especially duty bound.  
  
He had checked on Devin Hawkins first, as he was reported as the most seriously injured. The man was still unconscious, but his prognosis was good. His body was assimilating the oxygen that the breather was producing, so they were planning to take him off life support later in the morning. He was relieved. He hated to see his men down.  
  
His next stop was at the infirmary. He had been told they were releasing Lieutenant Valerii today, and he wanted to be sure that he stopped in before they did so. It was still early, and most of the crew was sleeping, but he didn't want to wait until after she'd been discharged.  
  
There were few secrets on the Galactica, and he was not an oblivious commander. He knew the vast majority of what went on in the corridors and storage rooms of the Galactica, although he most often pretended ignorance. Still, he was slightly surprised at the sight that greeted him as he opened the hatch.  
  
Sharon Valerii was there, and resting comfortably from every indication. What he hadn't expected was his crew chief sitting next to the bed, his head sharing the Lieutenant's pillow as he snored softly. Their hands were carefully interlocked, pulled up under the Chief's chin, as if to reassure him that she was really okay. It was actually a very sweet sight. If they had both been officers, or both enlisted, it would have been perfectly appropriate.  
  
As it was, he was faced with a precedent setting decision that he didn't really want to make. Turning a blind eye to a quiet affair was one thing, but allowing blatant fraternization among his crew was something else altogether. On the one had, he had hundreds of years of military tradition saying that the situation was unacceptable. On the other hand, they were all in survival-mode after the near destruction of their race. Could any healthy relationship really be denied? And why the hell did he have to be the one to decide?  
  
As he stepped further into the room, Sharon murmured quietly, her body curling towards Tyrol. He scooted closer as well, his hand tightening on hers, and they went on sleeping. Adama realized that there really wasn't a decision to make after all.  
  
He cleared his throat rather loudly, and the Chief's head jerked up and around so quickly that the man must be dizzy. There was more than a little nervousness in his crewman's eyes, but he didn't say a word. Sharon slept on, undisturbed by his movement.  
  
"How is she?" William asked softly.  
  
Tyrol cleared his throat before speaking. "Better," he finally said. "They took her off the oxygen this morning, and she's breathing easier. She's coughing less."  
  
"That's good," he told the younger man. "Are they letting her out today?"  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
He nodded thoughtfully. "You're in family quarters, aren't you, Chief?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," Tyrol answered. "It was more appropriate for the boy that was picked up on Caprica. Sharon didn't want him living in regular crew quarters."  
  
"Probably a wise choice," the commander agreed. "There are a few things he doesn't need to learn just yet. Co-ed quarters would probably teach him more anatomy than is appropriate for his age."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Tyrol said again.  
  
William took another deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Command never got easier, and what he was about to say would set the tone for many years to come. There would be no going back. "You should probably take her back to your quarters," he finally suggested. "It'll be quieter than the pilot's quarters, and she might be able to rest and get better. I'll speak to my son about getting you pulled off the duty roster until she's ready to be left alone. She'll need someone to keep an eye on her."  
  
Tyrol's eyes had widened almost comically, but he had the good sense not to look a gift-Commander in the mouth. "Yes, Sir," he said vehemently. "I'd appreciate that."  
  
Adama nodded and turned to leave. At the last minute he turned back and faced his crew chief. "Lieutenant Valerii does the fitness review for the flight deck, does she not?"  
  
Tyrol blinked several times before providing him with another, "Yes, Sir."  
  
He nodded at that. "I'll get that duty reassigned as well. There's no point in leaving an opening for someone to declare a conflict of interest. There are enough other jobs that she can pick up to make up for it."  
  
Tyrol just nodded. The Commander then turned and walked into the Galactica's main passageway, closing the hatch behind him to give the couple some privacy.  
  
Months ago he had realized that they would need to change some thing to get by during their escape. He had made some minor policy changes over the months, relaxing some policies and encouraging others, but this was the first open stand he had made regarding crew relationships. He supposed he should be worried about the inevitable backlash from such a decision, but at the moment he was thinking of a young couple that had likely been hiding out in storage rooms for the last several months. It wasn't fair to them. It wasn't fair to any of them.  
  
He thought about stopping in at Blue Squadron's living quarters, but decided against it. Lee wouldn't appreciate his father checking up on him. Instead, he'd be sure that he requested the Captain's presence on the CIC later in the day to be sure that there were no other problems as a result of the accident that had occurred yesterday. He had already received a full report verbally, but it needed to be written down and recorded before the matter was put to rest. And if it was a reasonable excuse to get a look at his son and see how he was managing, then he would consider it an added benefit.  
  
Glancing up at the wall chronometer, he absently wondered where Starbuck was this morning. She was usually running by this time, and it was unlike her to miss a day. He walked slowly to ensure that he wouldn't miss her if she was just at another point in her lap, but she never ran by him. The previous day's activities must have kept her up late as well. He had looked at the duty roster, and she wasn't scheduled for patrol until tomorrow at midday.  
  
Out of excuses, he returned to his quarters and sat at the small desk they'd found him. There was a stack of reports, prescreened by Tigh, who was currently in command in CIC. A quick glance through the papers ensured that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. No unusual activity in the sector, no planets within range, and no urgent military matters to attend to. It was a routine day on the Galactica.  
  
William stood, pushing his chair up under the desk and sitting down on the edge of his bunk. He had spent last night alternately checking on the investigation and trying to get a few hours sleep. As a result, he was a little tired, but still too keyed up to sleep. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he honestly had nothing demanding his attention. The officer's mess wouldn't open for another hour, so he couldn't even grab an early breakfast.  
  
Shaking his head in wonder at the pure normalcy of the morning, he went over and prepared his coffee pot. If he was going to have a quiet morning with nothing to do, he might as well enjoy a cup of coffee and a few minutes with a good book. These opportunities were rare indeed, and he wouldn't waste one. If the thought crossed his mind that he should be retired with coffee and books as the norm, he didn't bother to dwell on it. 


	6. The Proposal

Chapter 6  
  
Lee Adama opened his eyes as the alarm buzzed softly in one ear. The other was buried firmly in his pillow. The night had gone too quickly, and he felt like he hadn't slept much at all. Still, as much as a courtesy as by necessity, he reached to the head of the bed to turn off the alarm.  
  
Groggily he rubbed a hand over his face and sat up. The sharp pain in his forehead took him by surprise. Blinking quickly in the dim light of the pilot's quarters, he oriented himself quickly. He wasn't in his own bed. That was apparent. A glance behind him at the shelf that held the clock showed a deck of cards, two new cigars, and a handful of hard candies. Starbuck's bunk.  
  
He rubbed his forehead gently, grateful not to see blood on his hand when he looked at it. How she slept in this cubby-hole was beyond him. His only request when he'd moved into group quarters was that he have a top bunk. He would rather fall five feet than bang his head every morning.  
  
He shifted his feet slightly to avoid the ladder to his own bunk and finally managed to get his boots to the floor. He was still in his uniform, jacket included. That explained what he was doing in Kara's bunk. He must have made it this far and collapsed. He barely remembered the walk from the flight deck after they had squared away the accident scene. They still had a ton of clean-up to do in the landing pod, but last night he hadn't cared. Make that this morning. A glance at the clock he had just turned off showed this afternoon. No wonder he was hungry.  
  
He rubbed his face again, realizing how badly he needed a shave. Up on his own bunk, there was a note from Kara that he was to report to the commander at sixteen-hundred. It was fourteen-hundred now. That gave him time for a shower and food. He was off the duty roster until nineteen-hundred. He had scheduled that deliberately, knowing he would need some sleep.  
  
With another yawn he collected his bag from his locker and took his shower in relative quiet. He usually got up with Kara to run, regardless of his shift, so it was throwing him off to be in a deserted shower room.  
  
When he made it back to quarters, dressed in a clean uniform and freshly shaven, he found Lieutenant Dualla at Boomer's bunk, taking things off the shelves and placing them in a tote bag.  
  
"What's up?" he asked quickly. "I thought she was being released today."  
  
"She has been," Dee said with glance at him. "She's in family quarters. Commander Adama asked me to pick up her stuff."  
  
"Family quarters?" he asked in semi-confusion. He knew that there was a relationship between Tyrol and Sharon, but he wasn't aware that his father was privy to the information. It was something he hadn't done anything about simply because it was none of his business. Yes, Boomer was his pilot, but where she slept at night had nothing to do with her flying, and he hadn't seen it affect the Chief's work either. Well, not until yesterday, but that had definitely been extenuating circumstances.  
  
"I believe she's moved in with Chief Tyrol," Dee told him with what might have been a blush, and definitely was a sheepish smile. "The Commander said that I was to clean out her shelves and her locker, and drop everything off so that the Chief wouldn't have to leave her alone."  
  
"I see," he said, but he really didn't. Mentally he cataloged the information and decided to bring it up with his father. He would be meeting with him in less than an hour. He wondered whether it might be about this, then decided not to be paranoid. His father wasn't really the type of commander to lecture him about not being able to control his pilots.  
  
Lee grabbed a protein drink from the officer's mess and drank it while he looked over the morning's reports. Repairs were already initiated on the landing pod, and the pilots were using the other landing bay in the meantime. Given the excitement of the day before, it was all very routine.  
  
A glance at his watch sent him to his father's office. He knocked twice on the door, and heard a commanding, "Come in."  
  
Stepping through the hatch, he saw that his father was bent over his desk, scribbling something on a clipboard. He stood just inside the door and waited, as there was no chair to sit in even if his father had told him to do so. It wasn't a lack of courtesy, but rather a lack of space. There wasn't room for another chair with the desk in here.  
  
When the Commander looked up, Lee asked, "You wanted to see me?"  
  
"Yes, have a seat."  
  
Lee followed his father's gesture and took a seat at the foot of the bed. "Is there a problem?"  
  
"Yes and no," his father told him with a sigh. Then he shook his head and gave a smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't even ask how you were doing. I know you had a late night last night."  
  
"I'm sure you've seen the reports," Lee told him. "Repairs are underway."  
  
The eldest Adama just looked at him. "And you are."  
  
Lee smiled. "I'm fine. Thanks."  
  
The Commander nodded. "We have a minor. situation," he began. "I need for you to reassign some duties. Lieutenant Valerii is no longer to be responsible for fitness reports on our flight crew. Perhaps Lieutenant Randall or Lieutenant Caspan could take the responsibility."  
  
Lee nodded his understanding. "I'll take care of it," he said. Then, after a pause, "So I assume you know."  
  
His father smiled. It was a genuine smile, and the first that Lee had seen in a long time. "I know most of what's happening on my ship," he explained simply.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
Adama took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Most of the time, unless it's an issue, I simply don't let people know that I'm aware of situations. Given the, well the obvious nature of the relationship, I feel it's more appropriate that she not be responsible for writing reports on Tyrol's crew."  
  
Lee nodded. "Will there be any disciplinary action?"  
  
"Court martial them for living," he said quietly. "That might have been appropriate before the war, but we can't afford to lose our men or women just because they need someone to get through the days. Or the nights. That's not fair to them, and it's not good for our future. I think it's more important that we keep our crew happy and eliminate as much conflict of interest as possible."  
  
Lee smiled at his father's answer. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"I assume you feel the same way, as you haven't reported the situation."  
  
"It wasn't affecting their work," Lee admitted. "I didn't see a need."  
  
The Commander nodded. "There are other similar situations," he said softly. "Let's make sure that we distribute duties so as not to allow it to become a problem. You may change review assignments at your discretion, and if anyone questions the situation you can refer them to me."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Lee said again.  
  
"I would also like Hawk added to the award roster," Adama said softly. "From what the emergency crew tells me, he did his best to protect his pilot. That deserves recognition."  
  
"I'll take care of it." Adama nodded, and was silent for a few moments. Lee looked at him curiously, wondering if they were finished. Finally, he asked, "Will there be anything else?"  
  
"Yes," he said quietly. "How are you?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"I'm not asking as your commander," he said gently. "I'm asking as your father. How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm fine, Sir," Lee said quietly. "I miss some sleep on occasion, but otherwise I'm doing as well as anyone can."  
  
"Your mother's birthday was last week," he murmured.  
  
Lee looked at him for a moment and then let out a breath he'd been holding. "I remember."  
  
"It was a difficult day," he said simply.  
  
"It was," Lee told him. "I kept busy."  
  
Adama was silent a moment longer, but Lee could tell he wasn't finished. "The ceremony is a week from tomorrow," he said softly.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"You know the date?"  
  
Lee nodded. "It's Zak's birthday."  
  
Adama smiled. "Your mother was always annoyed that he didn't come on her birthday. That was when he was due, but Zak never did anything on anyone else's schedule. I didn't set the date for the ceremony. I didn't even really realize it until last week, when I picked up the duty roster and saw your mother's birthday there. My first thought was that I had forgotten to send flowers."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Adama nodded, an acknowledgement of the pain they both shared, and the regrets. He took another deep breath and continued. "I'm worried about Kara," he admitted. "Her solution to the day is usually to get drunk before it starts and stay that way until it's over. She usually wakes up in the brig."  
  
"We don't have to worry about that," Lee said gently. "There's no liquor left aboard the Galactica."  
  
"Exactly," he said.  
  
Lee suddenly understood. Kara wouldn't be able to escape the day. She would have to live through it, and with the award ceremony she wouldn't even be able to bury herself in work.  
  
"I'll stick close," Lee promised.  
  
"I appreciate it," his father said with a soft smile. "She isn't half as strong sometimes as she thinks she is."  
  
Lee waited a moment, then replied with a smile that was very much like his father's. "Yes, she is."  
  
Chief Tyrol tightened his grip on Sharon as she slept. Boxey was in class, and the Commander had generously given him the rest of the week off. He wasn't wasting the time.  
  
He was lying next to her on the bed, one arm around her shoulders as her head rested on his chest. They had spent a lot of time like this since he'd walked her back to his quarters. Boxey had gotten to the point where he just rolled his eyes and asked if he could go play with friends in the Children's Center. Mostly, Tyrol thought the boy was just glad to have her back.  
  
She had spent a lot of time with them at the beginning of the war. Most nights she had slept here, on one of the two beds that made up their quarters. Some nights she slept with him, and other nights she had simply held Boxey as he cried for his parents and the loss of all his friends. She was amazing with him, always knowing the right balance between enough sympathy and too much, and she always knew what to say to make the tears stop.  
  
The tears had been less frequent lately, but they still occurred in the darkness of the night. Tyrol didn't handle it nearly as well as Sharon did. But he had done his best. He had needed to since Sharon had stopped spending the nights with them.  
  
That had been his fault. He was the one who had worried about getting into trouble. He was the one who had been afraid of getting caught, and thought that having Boxey there was too thin an excuse for her to be caught living with him. He was the one who had started the last screaming match that had put her in tears as she packed up the couple of things she'd kept here and walked out. He was the one who had put a stop to the best thing that had ever happened to him.  
  
Boxey had wanted to know what was wrong. How did one explain the intricate nature of military law? Mostly he hadn't. He had just said that she needed to be with her squadron and left it at that. Boxey hadn't bought it, but he hadn't complained either. Tyrol figured that he was still afraid he'd get sent to one of the civilian ships. He would never do that to him, of course, but the kid didn't know him well enough to know that.  
  
Sharon shifted, rubbing her face into his shirt as she woke up. She gave his waist a little squeeze, then looked up. "Morning," she mumbled. Her voice was still rough from the irritation to her throat, but she sounded wonderful to him.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Tired," she grumbled. "But better. I like waking up this way."  
  
"Me too," he agreed, kissing her gently on the forehead. "I've missed you."  
  
She didn't respond to that. He didn't really expect her to. He was the one who had suggested she leave.  
  
"I was wrong," he admitted. "I should have gone to the Commander and explained the situation. I just didn't believe he'd understand."  
  
"You play by the rules," she said softly. "It's one of the things I love about you. You have a streak of integrity that's a mile wide."  
  
"About some things," he agreed.  
  
"You've never compromised in your work," she said simply. "Not even with me. I understand that. Your work is important, and you didn't want to risk it. I can't blame you for that."  
  
"You're important to me, too," he assured her.  
  
"Mmm, that sounds good."  
  
He smiled at her. Once more he was reminded how close he had come to losing her, and he didn't like the feeling. She was a huge part of him. So much a part, that he had even been willing to risk losing his job.  
  
"The Commander had your stuff sent down," he told her softly. "You can get a shower if you want. Or we can just lay here."  
  
"I'm fine here," she told him.  
  
He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, then began thinking aloud. "I need to buy Hawk a drink," he admitted. "The emergency crew said that he did a pretty good job of protecting you from the fire."  
  
"Stupid man," she muttered. "It doesn't matter how much equality women earn, when push comes to shove you still don't trust us to take care of ourselves."  
  
"I trust you," he corrected. "It's the fire I didn't have much faith in."  
  
She stuck her tongue out at him, then laid her head down.  
  
"I think it's innate," he reasoned. "Somewhere in our biological programming. Men protect women and children. We don't even think about it; we just do it."  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Seriously, though, it's probably what saved him. The back of the Raptor went up. If he hadn't gone forward for you, there's no telling how badly burned he would have been."  
  
"That makes me feel a little better," she admitted. "I hate to think he got hurt for me. Especially when I'm the one that couldn't get that thruster to work."  
  
"There was no fuel to it," he explained. "When that seal gave, you lost the whole fuel line. That's what ignited when you hit the pod. The sparks set it off. If you hadn't come back early, you wouldn't have made it aboard, and." He didn't finish, but he did give her a gentle hug, and his voice got very rough. "I'm just glad I got you back."  
  
"I'm glad to be back." She waited a moment, then added, "I never wanted to leave in the first place."  
  
Tyrol closed his eyes, regret swamping him for a moment. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I was wrong. I thought. well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I was wrong. It's more important to have you here with me than whether or not it affects my job or yours. If one of us has to quit, then we'll work it out."  
  
"Will it go to court?" she asked softly.  
  
"I don't think so. The Commander didn't seem upset. He's the one that suggested you move in here. He said you'd get more rest here."  
  
"Well, I'm definitely more comfortable," she said with a grin, rubbing her cheek against his shirt again.  
  
He smiled, and began stroking her long hair in a manner that comforted both of them. "You know," he finally said. "There is a way that we can make all of this irrelevant."  
  
"What?"  
  
He shrugged. "Fraternization doesn't apply to married couples," he said simply.  
  
"Is that a good enough reason to get married?" she asked softly.  
  
"I don't know. Is loving me a good enough reason to marry me?"  
  
She lifted her head to look at him for a moment. He could swear there were tears in her eyes. "Is it what you want?"  
  
He thought about it for a moment. "I've thought about it a lot," he admitted. "It would make things easier for Boxey, that's for sure. We might even be able to do a formal adoption if we were married. And it would eliminate the possibility of disciplinary action," he added. She had laid her head back down on his chest without answering, so he played his final card. "And I want to be with you, always. Doesn't it make sense to marry the woman of your dreams? It does to me."  
  
She waited a moment before she lifted her head up to look at him. This time the tears were on her cheeks, not in her eyes. "Are you asking me to marry you?" she whispered.  
  
He kissed her lips gently. "I love you," he said simply. "I want you to marry me. Yes, I'm asking."  
  
"Then I'll answer," she told him with a grin. "Yes, I'll marry you. I love you. And I love Boxey. And I always wanted to be a part of a family."  
  
He kissed her again, more deeply this time, before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. "That was worse than taking on a Cylon," he muttered.  
  
She grinned at him. "You knew I'd answer yes," she told him. "You had to know that."  
  
"I hoped," he told her simply.  
  
"I love you," she reminded him.  
  
"I love you, Sharon." 


	7. The Dance

Chapter 7  
  
The day of the ceremony arrived with very little fuss. Kara was stunned that it was finally here. She promised herself that she would only think of this as the day of the celebration. It didn't need to be anything else. She didn't need to remember anything else.  
  
God, she wanted a drink.  
  
She woke before the alarm went off, so she shut it off quickly to spare others the noise. She slid from her bed, picking up her bag at her locker and stripping her uniform as she went. She dumped it in the community hamper, and waited briefly in the shower line dressed in only her underwear. It wasn't an uncommon sight. Most of those around her were dressed in a similar fashion.  
  
Because there was little line, she took a bit longer in the shower. She scrubbed her hair twice, took time to shave her legs, and even used a little of the lotion she'd been given on her last birthday. By the time she left the shower she was almost able to convince herself that the day would be okay. Almost.  
  
She combed her hair back as she stood in front of a mirror dressed in her towel. She was off duty today because she was slated to receive an award. The tradition involved a three-day pass, but given the circumstances the reward accompanying the cluster was a full pass to the party and forty- eight hours off duty. She didn't have to work at all. Most of the ship would be in shifts today, allowing half to come to the banquet and presentation, and the other half to come to the dance. Lucky her. She got to do both.  
  
She didn't feel like running. That was a switch, but she didn't want to question it. She didn't really want to do anything. She had hours until the ceremony would begin, and no real way to fill them. It was going to be a long day. Even Lee wasn't around to pester. He was with his father, making final preparations for the award presentation. She wondered how he was going to manage it, as he was up for a Gold Cluster himself.  
  
She started her day by walking down to the life center and checking on Hawk. He was sitting up now, although still wrapped in a number of bandages. He had taken some severe burns to his legs and back, as well as to his hands and face. He would be a long time getting back into a Raptor. Still, his spirits were pretty good, and he was ready to be out of there. He asked a lot of questions about the accident - apparently no one had really told him much about what had happened - and seemed to enjoy her visit. She was glad about that. Sitting and teasing him had loosened the knot in her chest and made her feel better. She thought she just might get through the day after all.  
  
Her next stop was at Tyrol's room. She had come by a couple of times to see Sharon during the past week, and it was good to be around a friend. Sharon was so happy that she positively glowed. She and Tyrol were getting married just as soon as they could get the priest back to the Galactica. It had been a long time coming, but Kara couldn't help but be happy for her friend. She deserved a little happiness, and the Chief - well, the chief deserved it as much as Sharon did. They made a really cute couple. If it all brought back memories best forgotten, then that was her problem too. It was all her problem.  
  
Unfortunately, Sharon was back on duty this morning. She wasn't flying, but she was working on schedules up in CIC. She would be off in time for the ceremony, but not before then for Kara to talk to. She had to think of something else to do.  
  
The something else turned out to be several games of Solitary Pyramid at the foot of her bed. She couldn't seem to concentrate well enough to win a game, but at least it passed the time. When the time got close for the ceremony, she went ahead and put on her dress uniform. As she had told Lee, it was too big, but she still preferred it to wearing a strange one. She tightened her belt, looked herself over in the mirror, and decided it would have to do. By this time the quarters was filled with chattering pilots, all dressing and smiling, getting ready for a long awaited celebration.  
  
Later, Kara would be disappointed that she hadn't done more with her day off, but for now she was just glad it was over. She would sit through the ceremony, try to eat something at the banquet, and quietly disappear from the dance. She just had to get there.  
  
The hanger bay had been cleared as it had been for the decommissioning ceremony. Tables had been brought in from both officers and enlisted mess,,and a long row of trays held more food than she had seen in a year. She wished she could be excited about any of it. She wished she could feel something. Anything.  
  
"Kara?"  
  
She turned to see Lee walking towards her. He was in full dress uniform and looked as good as he always had. The Adama men could really fill out a uniform; that was certain.  
  
"Hey," she called back. "Any idea where we're supposed to be?"  
  
"You're sitting up front with us," he told her as he pointed. "Front table."  
  
"Front?"  
  
"Gold Cluster," he told her with a grin. "I'm surprised it didn't come with a step promotion."  
  
"That probably had something to do with my hitting the XO that morning," she told him wryly.  
  
"No doubt," he agreed. "You're up between me and my father."  
  
She lifted one eyebrow in surprise, but followed him up to the front table. Tigh gave her a courteous nod, but didn't say anything. She was thankful for small favors. If he didn't say anything, then she didn't have to be polite.  
  
It took more than half an hour for the hanger to fill, then another ten minutes to get everyone's attention. No one appeared to notice Kara's silence. She just sat and listened, and everyone else went on about their business. Even Lee was preoccupied enough with the presentation roster that he didn't try to get her to talk.  
  
Finally the night officially began. The President said a few words, their Priest blessed the meal, and then they were lined up to fill their plates.  
  
As much as she had been looking forward to a meal, nothing really looked good to her. She shuffled along in the line, numbness pervading her, picking up a few spoonfuls here and there.  
  
"Not hungry?" Lee asked her in concern.  
  
"I don't think I know what to do with real food," she admitted.  
  
He apparently had no such problem. His plate was piled high with meat, breads, and vegetables. She lifted one eyebrow at the amount of food on his plate, but didn't comment. It did look better than blobs of protein or the concentrated drinks that had kept them going while the ag-ships got themselves together, but she was pretty sure that eating that much just might make him sick.  
  
Back at the table, she ate the few bites from her plate as she listened to the lively conversation. She felt apart from it, but it was still nice to see people smiling for a change, laughing and eating and having a good time. She might not really be enjoying it, but she appreciated that others were.  
  
"Try this," Lee told her, dropping spoonful of meat on her plate. She did as he asked, and decided that it was good. "Did you get any of the fruit?" he asked once he'd swallowed what was in his mouth. When she shook her head, he put some of that on her plate as well.  
  
Over the course of the next few minutes, he managed to transfer nearly half of what was on his plate to hers. She figured out what he was doing about midway through, but didn't have it in her to argue. If eating a few more bites would keep the smile on his face, then she would just have to eat. In truth, her appetite had awakened after the first few items and it wasn't too much of a trial. Real food tasted pretty good, and it had been a long time since she had eaten her fill of anything.  
  
She put her foot down when he tried to pawn off a rich dessert on her. She really was full, and she let him know that. He grinned at her, ate a few more bites, and finally talked her into trying it. She had to give him credit for persistence.  
  
She also felt better with a little food in her. Come to think of it, she hadn't eaten breakfast. Or lunch. It was no wonder she was light-headed and rather disconnected. She normally kept her days to a routine - wake, shower, run, eat, work, eat, work, eat, weights, sleep. With so much time on her hands, she'd lost track of what to do with herself.  
  
As everyone finished their meals, some well deserved praise was given to the galley staff for their exceptional efforts. Colonel Tigh laughingly offered up a Bronze Cluster, and part of the room was willing to allow it. If they had been military, it would have been a sure thing. It was well past time that the Military started eating regular meals again.  
  
The President stood to begin the festivities. Kara tuned out much of the discussion, feeling full and warm and just a little drowsy. When the Commander was called to the podium, she sat up a little straighter and forced herself to be alert. This, after all, was why they were here.  
  
"Thank you, President Roslyn, for the introduction." He glanced down over his troops with a wry grin. "I just hope I can live up to it." Laughter all around at his humility in the face of her affluent praise could be heard for several seconds. She had spoken the truth: he had saved all their lives with quick thinking and decisive action. They knew it, even if he insisted it was a team effort.  
  
"It's been a long six-months," he stated simply. "In our desire to survive, a lot of things have been pushed to the back of our minds. Some of us can't even remember the events that occurred during the initial attack. I know all of us would rather forget. But this crew rose to the challenge, and a team of essentially Rookies with a few seasoned veterans managed to pull off a miracle. We're here. We're alive. And we will get through this.  
  
"But survival isn't all there is to living. We have taken the time to honor our dead, but in our rush to escape the Cylon threat we haven't taken time to thank those that made it possible and lived to tell about it. We survived, and the fleet survived, because this crew kept themselves together in the face of an insurmountable challenge. I think it's time that the military thanked them properly."  
  
There was silence rather than applause as the Commander announced the two- hundred and eleven men and women who received a Bronze Cluster. They walked to the podium when called, performed the standard take-shake-salute, and remained standing in lines until all were complete. The applause that followed was thundering.  
  
The award was given to each of the original crewman that had held to their duties during the primary Cylon attack. These were the bridge crew that had kept the Galactica on course even with tears in their eyes, and holes in their hearts. These were the Specialists that found the details, kept the crewmen informed, and managed not to fall apart as the world was destroyed around them. These were the repairmen that put the CIC back together following a nuclear blast, raising columns and anchoring tables. These were the backbone of the Galactica.  
  
Next, the President requested that Captain Apollo join them at the podium. They presented fifty-three Silver Clusters. These were the fireman that had gone into an inferno to pull out shipmates, living or dead. These were the pilots that had fought the Cylons in antiquated ships, and the flight crews that put those ships together. These were the heroes of the Galactica, the men and women that went above and beyond the call of duty to be sure that the mission was accomplished, and that the Galactica survived. Once again, the applause that followed was tumultuous.  
  
Finally, Captain Apollo was seated and the final presentations began. There were only nine of these. Lee was the first one called to the podium, and he laughed about jumping up and down, saying he should have just stayed there. The joking stopped when his father faced him, and with a voice rougher than usual began to explain the significance of the Gold Cluster. It was given only to those who had placed their life on the line for the protection of the Colonies. Most were given posthumously, and the Commander stated emphatically that was very happy this award was not following that particular tradition.  
  
Apollo stood as still as a statue while his father read out the reasons he was being decorated. He was receiving the Gold Cluster for placing himself in the line of fire with no weaponry in order to save the President's ship. He took the award from his father, shook his hand, and saluted in receipt of the medal. The President was less formal, giving him a gentle hug and her heartfelt thanks. Kara thought Lee looked awfully glad to sit down.  
  
Others were called. Fire crew that had put their lives on the line to go into a flaming area and try to save rookies who would not know how to save themselves. Without breathers, they had grabbed rookies and either slammed them into a suit or thrown them clear of the fire so that they could escape or withstand the ventilation.  
  
Sharon was called as well, standing shakily up on the podium as she received her cluster for escaping direct Cylon fire, repairing her ship, and rescuing others as she jumped into and out of the danger zones. Her information had also been invaluable in preparing the older Vipers to be effective against the Cylon fleet. Tyrol assisted with her award presentation, and in many of the others, and by the time they were complete there were few dry eyes in the room.  
  
Kara had begun to get edgy when Lee was called back to the podium for Sharon, and then told to remain for the next presentation. She fidgeted in her seat as the President, the Commander, and her CAG all turned to face her. "Your turn, Lieutenant Thrace," the eldest Adama said with a soft smile. There was scattered applause as she stood on shaking legs and moved to the podium. Lee stood behind her, and she felt his hand settle at the base of her back, invisible to the audience, but comforting all the same.  
  
"This is no surprise," the Commander began, to more than a scattering of laughter. "I've said for years, that Kara Thrace was the best pilot I had ever seen. During our initial attack, she led our museum Vipers into a clear defense against the Cylons. Her precision flying and shooting kept the vast majority of their nuclear ordinance away from the Galactica, and that was all that saved us. Then, she placed her own safety in jeopardy by volunteering to scout before the fleet, to evaluate and report the situation at Ragnar, which turned out to be a number of Cylon attack squadrons. Again, her professionalism and skill were all that allowed us to plan for and escape from the situation. Finally, during our escape she not only destroyed no less than fifteen Cylon craft, then defended one of our damaged Vipers that was unable to defend itself, but she also managed to bring back not only her craft, but her flight leader's damaged Viper in time for the jump. Don't ask me how she managed it," he said with a sideways look that caused more than few chuckles in the audience. "But she did. And for this, the President of the Twelve Colonies and I, her Commander, award the Gold Cluster. This is the highest honor that can be presented to any officer, and it is very well deserved. Wear it well, Starbuck.  
  
Kara took the medal, but didn't meet Adama's eyes as she shook his hand. She wasn't sure she could. Then she saluted him, and finally caught his glance. He was smiling broadly. Next, Lee shook her hand firmly, giving an extra squeeze before he let go. Finally, the President offered another of her gentle hugs. Kara was offered the chance to say something, as the other recipients of the Gold Cluster had been, but she shook her head and stepped down from the podium as quickly as she could manage. Back at her seat, she looked down at the cluster and blinked quickly. She wished desperately that they would get this over with.  
  
Thankfully, hers was the last of the presentations. There were a few other formalities to observe, memorials to be read and a couple of routine matters to be announced. But for the most part, when Kara eased herself down into her chair she was finished. She was done. Looking to her left, catching the wink that Lee sent her, she finally decided that she just might survive the night after all.  
  
Lee watched Kara closely as she leaned against the hanger wall and looked at all the dancers. She was as far apart as if she had been up in her quarters. She wasn't talking, wasn't interacting, and since he'd left her side to help with moving tables out and transitioning one shift of revelers to the other she hadn't moved an inch.  
  
The music was piped in over the loudspeakers. A live band would have been nice, but he didn't think one even existed anymore. Instead, they had collected every recording that anyone still had intact and each was sitting in CIC where the bridge crew could select and play them for the dance. It was one way of keeping them involved when they couldn't attend. It wasn't fair, but neither was leaving key stations unmanned for the purpose of recreation. He was fairly sure his father would make it up to them in some way.  
  
By the time he had returned, most of the couples had paired off and were dancing to soft music that was distractingly tinny through the overhead speakers. But bad music was better than no music, so they were all tolerating it. In truth, most of the couples didn't seem to mind.  
  
They danced in pairs, or in some cases three women together, or even one or two out there alone. But most everyone was indeed dancing. There were a couple of people still drifting over to the food table - mostly the new arrivals that hadn't had dinner yet - but they were a minority as well.  
  
Glancing around, Lee noted that of the few people not dancing, they were all men. The women seemed to be out there regardless of being asked, with one another if no man was handy. It reminded him of the dances he'd been forced to attend at the academy.  
  
As casually as possible, he sidled up to one of his Flight Lieutenants. "Harris," he said softly with a nod.  
  
Regardless of his attempt to remain non-threatening, the soldier snapped to attention. "Sir?" His voice even cracked, and this wasn't one of the kids. Being CAG was a pain in the ass.  
  
"At ease," he muttered. "This is a dance, not a formation."  
  
The man slipped into parade rest. Not good, but better. He was one of the upper ranking officers in Blue Squadron, and usually around the quarters or in the ready room. Lee figured he knew Kara pretty well, as they split most of the duties down the center. "Everyone seems to be having a good time," Lee said in as casual a voice as he could manage.  
  
"Yes, Sir. They do."  
  
"Any idea why Lieutenant Thrace isn't dancing?"  
  
The man finally dropped his frozen demeanor, realizing this was not a professional conversation. "Starbuck?" he asked in wonder. "Dance?"  
  
"Most everyone is," Lee remarked.  
  
Harris shrugged. "Yeah, but who'd ask her?" the man suggested. "She'd either deck 'em or stick 'em on report. She'll play a card game, but she doesn't really let anyone get closer than that, if you know what I mean."  
  
Lee frowned. It didn't sound like the Kara he knew.  
  
"Don't get me wrong, Sir," Harris inserted quickly, as though knowing he might have said too much. "She's a good guy. She's just not the kind of girl that you'd want to take home to your mother. Not that she'd want to go anyway."  
  
Lee nodded, having gleaned even more information than he had intended from the conversation. He spent most of his time either with the command crew in CIC or in his father's office making schedules and rosters. Well, that and the flight deck itself. He hadn't had time to hang out with the men from any of the squadrons - assuming they would even consent to having him do so - so he hadn't had a clue what their perceptions of her were. Now he was afraid that he had too good an idea.  
  
He watched her a bit longer, standing by herself against the far wall, one knee bent so that her left foot was flat on the wall. It was a relaxed posture, but the expression on her face was anything but pleased. After another twenty minutes, she hadn't moved. A couple of the girls had come up and spoken to her, and she had smiled and spoke to them, but as soon as their backs turned she resumed her quiet, watchful stance.  
  
Lee took the long way around the bay, smiling when he saw some of the couples in clinches far more intimate than was probably appropriate. It wasn't his place to report them tonight. This was their night - the only one they would get - and he wasn't going to take that away from them.  
  
When he reached Kara's side of the bay, he thought she'd see him coming. He approached slowly, and only when she startled did he realize that her gaze had been focused inward rather than on the dancers before her.  
  
"You okay?" he asked quietly. The music was soft now, just a whisper above the soft voices of the dancers as they moved with their partners. He didn't have to yell.  
  
"Fine," she said with the most false smile he'd seen in a long time. "Enjoying the dance?"  
  
"I haven't made it out there yet," he admitted. "I was checking on the shift change and getting the tables squared away."  
  
"Captains do that?" she asked with a quirk of her mouth. At least it was more real than her smile had been.  
  
"On occasion," he admitted. Then, on impulse, "Do Lieutenants dance?"  
  
"Most of them are," she replied in a wry tone.  
  
He looked out at the dancers, back at her, and still she hadn't met his eyes. "Dance with me, Kara."  
  
She finally looked at him and really met his eyes. "I haven't danced in ages," she admitted. "I don't think so."  
  
He didn't feel like arguing. He took one of her hands in his and gave a slight tug. "Dance with me," he repeated.  
  
She could have pulled away, but he didn't really think she'd make a scene. Her eyes told him just how much she was hating this, but for just a moment he wanted to get her close enough to have a private conversation in the public room. Once on the floor, he positioned her hands around his neck, and placed his own hands at her waist, leaving a careful six inches between their bodies. Perfectly proper form.  
  
After a few moments of swaying from one foot to the other, he chanced a glance down at her. She was staring steadily at his neck. "You okay?" he asked her, his voice no more than controlled breath in her ear.  
  
She nodded, then shivered. "I'm not used to this."  
  
He grinned. "None of us are anymore," he told her. "I'm more comfortable in a Viper than in a dress uniform."  
  
She nodded, but still didn't meet his eyes.  
  
He decided to let it go for a moment, and just enjoy having his arms around a beautiful woman and no place he needed to be. The worries were still there, banked behind a determination to ignore them for a few hours, but he wasn't considering them at the moment. He had another problem on his hands.  
  
Kara was shaking. It wasn't obvious, and if he hadn't been holding her he wouldn't likely have known it, but she was trembling all the same.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked her softly, well beyond asking if she was okay. She wasn't. He knew that.  
  
She shook her head, but she didn't answer.  
  
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he hadn't known her so well, he'd be angry. But he did. She was getting ready to come apart, and she was doing everything in her power not to.  
  
Lee slid a hand from her waist up to the back of her head and exerted just a bit of pressure. She didn't resist, and he found her forehead resting in the center of his chest as she looked at the ground. He moved his other arm up, linking his arms under hers, hands curled up to rest on her shoulders, effectively guarding her face from view. If she needed some time, he'd give her that. He rested his chin on her head, closed his eyes for a moment, and in the pretense of a dance he held her.  
  
They swayed that way for a very long time. Gradually her shaking stopped, and the tiny breaths she'd been taking became more normal. He couldn't help the relief that swamped him. She was going to get through this. He wasn't sure what he would have done if she'd started crying on him.  
  
He waited a few more moments before placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. "Are you ready to get out of here?"  
  
He didn't think her look could have been more grateful if he'd handed her a case of cigars. "Can we do that?" she asked honestly.  
  
He touched the Gold Cluster pinned to her collar and grinned. "We can do what we want tonight," he told her firmly. Her smile, small though it was, was all the reward he needed. "I do need to take care of something really quick. Will you be okay?"  
  
She raised one eyebrow, her usual spunk coming back to the fore. "I'll live," she said with a slight smile. "Just get me out of this place."  
  
He smiled at her again, patted her on one shoulder, and left her to go call in a couple of favors. 


	8. The room

Chapter 8  
  
As it turned out, it was a lot longer than a minute. Kara continued to watch the dancers around her, feeling more cut-off than she had before. She drifted over to the food table and got something to drink, but she wasn't even really thirsty. She just wanted to be out of this place, and she couldn't think of a way to do it gracefully.  
  
"What do you hear, Starbuck?"  
  
She grinned at the familiar voice. "Nothin' but the rain, Sir."  
  
William Adama smiled back at her. "You're awfully somber for having just received the fleet's greatest honor," he remarked. "I think it's fitting that you'll finally have something good to remember for this day."  
  
"It was always a good day," she said softly.  
  
"Now maybe it can be again." He looked at her for a moment more, but she didn't speak. "He would have been very proud of you," he finally said.  
  
"You think?"  
  
He smiled softly, placing a hand at her shoulder in comfort. "I know he would.  
  
She watched the dancers for a moment more, the Commander following her gaze. "I can't remember what he sounded like," she said very softly. "Is that good or bad?"  
  
William looked back at her and seemed to consider that for a moment. "I think it's natural," he finally said. "He wouldn't want you to be miserable about it, though. Time moves on. In a way, I'm just glad he never had to see what our world came to. When he died, his family was together, his mother was alive, his planet was intact." He smiled softly as he concluded, "And his girl was happy. I miss him, but I'm glad he never knew this war. His heart was too soft for it."  
  
Kara nodded her agreement, but didn't speak. Her throat was feeling a little tight. So she just looked around, checked the doorways to see if Lee was on his way back, and enjoyed the quiet company of the closest thing to a father she'd ever really known.  
  
"You know what, Starbuck?"  
  
She turned to look at him. "Sir?"  
  
"I saw you dance with my son, but I don't think I've ever had the honor. How about dancing with an old man?"  
  
She grinned at him, because she knew that he knew that she'd never turn him down, and it had nothing to do with his being her commander. "Are you going to step on my feet?" she asked as she moved towards the dancers."  
  
"Probably," he admitted.  
  
She smiled, taking his hands and beginning to dance with him among the others. He held her lower arms as she held his upper arms, and they just swayed to the music. They stayed that way for a couple of songs, and Kara was glad to pass the time with something more than watching.  
  
After the music of the third song ended, he stepped back from her with a smile. "I really do need to get up to CIC and find out what's been going on. Colonel Tigh might want to come down for a while."  
  
"Thanks for the warning," she said dryly.  
  
The Commander looked as if he was going to walk off, but at the last minute he turned back. "There are no perfect people on this ship," he said mildly. "And we all come here with pasts that we might not be proud of. But since the beginning of this war, we've all done our best to take care of one another and this ship. Colonel Tigh has done his part. I think he deserves that credit. What happened before the war just doesn't matter anymore."  
  
Kara nodded as she understood the underlying message. Leave Tigh alone. Got it. No problem. If anyone else had suggested it, she might have slugged them, but this was her commander. "Yes, Sir."  
  
He nodded then, turning and leaving her there at the edge of the dancers. She took a deep breath, then went to stand back by the wall where Lee had left her. She hoped he would get back soon.  
  
Lee came through the hanger doors just shy of a run. He had planned to take only a short while setting things up, but it had been more complicated than he'd expected. For that matter, if he hadn't been the Commander's son, he probably wouldn't have managed it at all. If he had to take all the crap from being related to their commander, then he would damn well take the advantages as well.  
  
Thankfully, Kara was just where he'd left her. He came up to her at a jog, slightly out of breath. "I'm set. You ready?"  
  
"Where've you been?" she asked, giving him a strange look. "What did you need to do?"  
  
"You'll see," he told her with a grin. "Let's get out of here."  
  
He led and she followed, which in and of itself was an unusual occurrence. When they passed by quarters, headed towards the far end of the ship, she gave him a curious look, but didn't question him. He had never put her in harms way, and he figured she knew that. Finally they came to a closed hatch just past the family quarters.  
  
"What's this?" she asked in confusion.  
  
"I didn't figure you'd know," he told her wryly. "These are the private rooms. Waiting list for them is about six weeks, but I know people who know people."  
  
"Private?"  
  
He shrugged. "Yeah. I figured you might want to get out of the main quarters for tonight. You're off tomorrow, so you can sleep as late as you want, lay around in the quiet, or whatever. We all need solo time on occasion, and I don't think you've had any since the war began."  
  
She gave him an uncertain smile as he ushered her inside the small room, closing the hatch behind them. "There's no lock," he admitted. "But no one should bother you here."  
  
She turned to look at him in confusion. "So, this is like the brig?"  
  
He laughed at her. "Not exactly. Take a look."  
  
She finally took a good look around the room. He watched her eyes widen as she took in the large bed, the table containing a deck of cards and two cigars, a change of clothes, and two of her favorite books. The speed with which her glance flew back to him was almost comical.  
  
"Consider it a vacation," he said softly. "You've earned it."  
  
She looked around the room again, and finally a true smile lit her face. "Nobody coughing in the next bed? Nobody muttering about smoke? Nobody telling me to put the damn cards away so they can get some sleep?"  
  
"Now you're getting it," he said, patting her on the head like a toddler.  
  
She looked around the room a third time, and let out a small laugh. "I won't have a clue what to do with myself. How in hell did you pull this off? I didn't even know this room was here."  
  
He didn't want to go into the way he'd thrown his rank around to manage it. "There are a few of them," he said simply. "There's a waiting list, but they're designed for just this: getting away from the crowd. Most of them have been converted into family rooms, but there are a few singles if you know who to ask."  
  
She had walked away from him, circling the small room and opening the door at the far side. "A bathroom? Nobody watching?"  
  
"And a shower stall," he added with a grin. "But there is a timer on it. Ten minutes, I think, but that's still pretty generous given what we're used to."  
  
"Why?" she finally asked.  
  
She wasn't asking why there was a timer, so he didn't bother to pretend ignorance. He took a deep breath before answering. "I know it hasn't been an easy day for you. I just thought you might want to get away for a while. No strings; I swear. I won't put you on long patrol or loan you out to the kitchen staff. I just." he stopped then, knowing he'd probably said too much.  
  
"You just what?"  
  
It didn't surprise him that she wasn't letting him off the hook. "I haven't seen you smile in a while," he admitted quietly. "I thought it might help if you had something to smile about."  
  
She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, looking around herself with a touch of wonder. He couldn't blame her. The one thing that the Galactica could not provide was privacy. They slept in a group, showered in a group, and even shared a community bathroom. Granted, there were some modesty curtains or walls thrown in, but the greatest irritation on the Galactica was that you were never alone. Even in a Viper, when it was just you and the space around you, the wireless kept you monitored at all times.  
  
"This is nice," she said softly. "Thanks."  
  
He was glad she liked it, but was more used to sarcastic retorts than grateful words. It made him a little uncomfortable. "I won't say 'anytime', because I couldn't follow through, but I'm glad I could do it."  
  
"I'll probably be climbing the walls in an hour," she admitted.  
  
"So you have cards, cigars, and I found a couple of novels by that mystery writer you used to like. That's actually what took me so long. They belong to Tavers, and he was on duty. It took me forever to track him down."  
  
She tilted her head sideways as she regarded him. "It's been a tough day for you, too," she reminded him. "He was your brother."  
  
"And he died doing what he wanted to do," Lee said softly. "I'm learning to live with that. I thought because I was older, it wasn't my responsibility to keep him safe, but he was an adult. He got into the plane. And he's the one that made the mistakes. I hate that he's gone, and I miss him at the weirdest times, but it's getting easier."  
  
"For me too," she admitted. "That's part of what bothers me. I don't ever want to forget him."  
  
"He won't be forgotten," Lee said gently, taking a seat beside her on the bed. "His body is gone, but he's still a big part of you, and of me. We spent a lot of years with him, and that doesn't go away just because he did."  
  
They sat in silence for a moment more, then Lee stood to leave. "Well," he told her. "I'd better leave you to it."  
  
"Lee?"  
  
There was an odd note in her voice, and when he turned around he saw the same emotion on her face. "Don't go."  
  
If it hadn't been for the vague desperation on her face, he might have brushed the comment off. He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "I think I need to. You're going to take enough flack for dancing with me and leaving with me. If neither of us are in quarters tonight, it'll hit the fan when it leaks that I checked out a private room." He looked at her pointedly, "I don't think you're ready for that kind of hassle."  
  
She looked away for a moment, and then back. "I already have that hassle," she admitted wryly. "I take your orders, run with you, and eat with you. They already think there's something going on."  
  
He walked back towards her with a confused look on his face. "But I've never given the impression.." He trailed off, then continued. "Is that why the crew refuses to speak to me half of the time?"  
  
She shook her head. "They don't trust you," she said simply. "You're one of the new guys, and the Commander's son on top of it. They don't know you well enough to like you, and you haven't exactly given them much to work with."  
  
He lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
She shrugged before answering, as though he should know this already. "You don't play cards with them, you don't ask about their families, and you don't joke around. You don't.," she searched for the word for a bit. "You don't fit."  
  
He looked at the ceiling for a moment, understanding dawning. In his effort to remain professional, to prove that he was good at his job and not just the Commander's son, he had probably alienated every one of the crew members. It didn't matter that it was unintentional. It was done just the same. "I didn't realize," he said, stating the obvious.  
  
"So it won't matter," she reasoned, returning to the discussion that had sparked this. "They already think something's going on, so leaving won't change their minds. Besides, I really don't care what they think of me anyway. I never have. My friends know the truth, and that's what matters. The rest of the crew can go jettison themselves if they have a problem with me."  
  
Lee walked back over to the bed and sat down next to her again. "I'll stay if you'll answer one question," he offered.  
  
"So you're worth bargaining for?" she asked with a smirk.  
  
He ignored her attempt at diversion. "Why didn't you dance? It's more than Zak, isn't it. If I hadn't drug you out there, you wouldn't have set foot on the floor."  
  
"I danced after you left," she told him indignantly. At his raised eyebrow she clarified, "With your dad."  
  
"But no one else?"  
  
She looked him in the eye, making him uncomfortable under the intensity of her gaze. "Nobody asked."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
She looked taken aback, and then finally smiled. "I guess they feared for their lives," she admitted.  
  
"What?" His smile was wide, but curious.  
  
"When I first got here, I was a mess," she told him. "I'd just lost Zak, and I wasn't ready to do anything. A few of the guys asked me out - new meat and all - but I was pretty good at turning them down. A few months after I got here, the CAG we had - not the one you met, but the one before that - anyway, he pushed me until I agreed to have dinner with him."  
  
"Go on," he prompted when she stopped. He was loving this, because he thought he knew what was coming.  
  
"After dinner he made a pass," she said with a shrug. "I broke his jaw."  
  
Lee laughed long and hard. Kara joined in as well, and in a few minutes they were both wiping away tears. "How the hell did you get out of that one?" he asked. "Striking an officer is one thing, but breaking bones is another."  
  
"I agreed not to press charges for harassment if he didn't press them for battery. But not before he told every pilot on the ship what a bitch I was."  
  
Lee sobered at that. "They can't believe that," he reasoned. "Everyone on board respects you. I can see it when they work with you. They know you're the best. You wouldn't have that respect if they thought you were a bitch."  
  
She shrugged one shoulder again; it was becoming habitual. "The crew has turned over since then, and most of those guys are gone. But the word got passed that I wasn't exactly easy. Most everyone stays clear. It works for me, though. I'd rather have their respect and a good game of cards then have them act like idiots around me."  
  
He could understand that. "Okay, fair answer. I'm yours for the night. But if you expect me to stay in dress uniform you're nuts. This thing is miserable."  
  
"I was just thinking the same thing," she admitted, pulling at the collar of her uniform. "Don't worry; I've seen you in your underwear before."  
  
He grinned at that. "At least you won't faint," he suggested.  
  
"Nah," she said with a wink. "You're not too hard on the eyes."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
She shrugged one last time, then cocked her head to the side and gave him a classic "Kara" smile. "I'm gonna get a shower. You want me to save you five minutes?"  
  
"Nope," he told her. "It's all yours."  
  
"Thanks," she said again, and disappeared behind the hatch leading to the bathroom. 


	9. Over Night

Chapter 9  
  
Kara tugged back the covers and lay back with a sigh. She didn't mind her bunk, but a real bed wasn't something she'd turn down. Lee was in the shower - she'd saved him that five minutes after all.  
  
She supposed she should feel uncomfortable spending the night with a man, but this was Lee. She and Zak had crawled into his bed during more than one thunderstorm on Caprica, and this really wasn't so different. She was feeling a little empty, and he was likely feeling the same, and it just made sense to keep one another company.  
  
"I forgot what hot water felt like," Lee remarked as he exited the bathroom wearing undershorts and a tank top.  
  
"It was nice," she agreed.  
  
He walked over at sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, just looking at her.  
  
"What?"  
  
He grinned. "Just seems like old times," he commented. "But no lightning."  
  
She smiled back at him. "I was just thinking about that," she admitted. "You always put up with us, even when you got squished."  
  
"Squished nothing," he said in a wry tone. "Half the time I woke up on the floor. At least you aren't the one that used to kick me in the stomach."  
  
"I promise to keep my feet to myself."  
  
He smiled at her again and lay down next to her. The bed was bigger than their bunks, but not quite as big as a double. It was a snug fit, but they could lay side-by-side without much difficulty. Lee put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "You tired?"  
  
She grinned. "I'm wired," she admitted.  
  
"Me too."  
  
"You want to play cards?"  
  
"I have better sense than that," he told her, turning his head sideways to look at her. "I don't play against Starbuck."  
  
"You're smarter than you look," she told him. It earned her a pillow in the face, but she could give as good as she got. Within a few seconds they were battling with pillows and beating one another silly. She finally called a truce, and they laughingly put the covers back on the bed and straightened them out. This time when Kara pulled back the covers to get in, Lee got in right beside her.  
  
"You're dangerous," he grumbled as he rubbed his face.  
  
"At least I didn't break your jaw."  
  
That sent them into a fit of laughter again, until Kara's side hurt and she had tears streaming down her face. When she finally wiped her hands over her cheeks, her smile faded slightly.  
  
"I never thought I'd be laughing today," she admitted. "It seems almost. wrong."  
  
Lee shook his head at that. "Survivor's guilt," he told her simply. "Just remember, Zak never would have wanted you miserable. He liked to make you laugh." He rolled onto his side facing her and reached out to easily flip her onto her side, faced away from him.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Relax," he said quietly as he tugged her back into the curve of his body. "I'm just settling in. You're less likely to kick me if you're faced that way."  
  
"Don't count on it," she muttered, but she couldn't argue that the position was comfortable. Her back was against the front of his body, and he was warm. One of his arms was draped across her side and his hand was comfortably on her hip. With anyone else she might have felt compromised in the position, but this was just Lee, and he had always kept her safe.  
  
They lay that way for a few minutes before he spoke. "It's been good hearing you laugh tonight. I've missed that."  
  
She put her arm over his and held his hand. "There hasn't been much to laugh about."  
  
"I know."  
  
"It's getting better, though. I half expected something to happen today just because of the ceremony, but it all worked out fine."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They were quiet for a while longer, and Kara started to wonder if he'd gone to sleep on her. His breathing was deep and regular, and his body relaxed. She gave a soft sigh and just enjoyed not having to be alone for the first time in recent memory. Lee was always nearby - his bunk was above hers - but this was different.  
  
They had been very close as kids, but as adolescence had approached she had become uncomfortable with the boys. Zak hadn't let it bother him, but Lee had gone pretty shy. Suddenly skinny-dipping and pillow fights were less acceptable and they were expected to act as adults. The funny part was, there was a lot to be said for a good pillow fight - or skinny-dipping, for that matter.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
His voice was barely a whisper as he released her hand and reached up to tuck her hair back behind her ear. The bangs had been falling in her eyes. It was odd how he always seemed to know what bothered her before she did. "Fine," she answered. "Comfortable."  
  
"Me too," he said softly. "So who gets stuck turning out the lights?"  
  
She thought about getting out of the warm bed, or having him do it, but suddenly it didn't matter at all. "Just leave them on," she suggested. "I'm warm."  
  
"Me too," he repeated, his voice fading on the words. She couldn't blame him. The events of the day had definitely caught up with them, and she was exhausted.  
  
"Night, Lee," she whispered, finally closing her eyes to sleep. He must have already been out, because she never heard him answer.  
  
The first thing Lee noticed as he drifted slowly awake was that he was warm. Really warm. For the first time in as long as he could remember, the pervasive chill of space wasn't surrounding him.  
  
The Galactica was a good ship. She was technologically limited by design, but she was as comfortable as any in space. Unfortunately, heat required fuel, and Tylium was a constant issue as they fled the Cylons. Because of this, everything stayed just a little cooler than was strictly comfortable. It wasn't cold - nobody got sick from it - but neither was it warm.  
  
Lee was warm. He shifted minutely, noting that his right arm was numb and there was hair tickling his nose. One eye opened slowly, and a gentle smile came across his face. It was just Kara.  
  
It had been a very long time since he'd awoken with a woman in his arms. The refreshing part about the situation was that he wasn't in the process of trying to think of how to get out of the bed without waking her or out of the room without facing uncomfortable conversations. This wasn't one of the rare bed partners he'd had over the years - albeit far fewer since he'd left the academy - but rather a friend.  
  
Friend or not, his body had a predictable response to early morning and warm woman. He shifted himself back a bit, moving his arm in the process and wincing at the pins-and-needles feeling that pervaded it.  
  
Kara shifted then, her body inching backward as if searching for him. She probably was. She probably liked the warmth of a shared bed as much as he did. But he didn't want her awake just yet. He was warm, and drowsy, and he knew this was a stolen moment out of time. He didn't want to waste it.  
  
He rested his chin carefully atop her head to keep the hair from tickling him, and put his arm back around her. Neither of them slept much, although both of them got more rest than they had at the beginning of the war. Schedules were a bit more regular, and they weren't awoken quite so often by either theirs or another's nightmares. In fact, things in quarters were almost comfortable, if it weren't for so many unfriendly faces.  
  
He would have to deal with those faces after this. It didn't bother him very much, because they didn't like him in the first place. They had glared at him behind his back before this, and now they might glare to his face. He might even hear a word or two against him before he turned a corner or stepped out of a shower stall, but they would likely not confront him directly.  
  
The thing that bothered him about the situations was that now they actually had a reason. No, they wouldn't know that the only thing going on in the isolated room was some sleeping, and it wasn't his job to educate them on what was none of their business, but he couldn't deny that he'd given them quite an opening for gossip.  
  
Kara had said that it didn't matter, but her heart was softer than she let on. She needed friends, and at the moment she had some. She'd put enough of those friendships on the line by just sticking by the new CAG when nobody else did, but to sleep with the enemy might strain those relationships beyond mending. He wanted to be her friend - needed her in ways he was just beginning to understand - but she needed more than just him. The thought that this might cause her hassle really did bother him. Not enough, as it turned out, to keep him out of the room or out of the bed.  
  
He wished he could regret it.  
  
Truthfully though, he was more content than he'd been in ages. And it didn't have all that much to do with sleeping in her bed. It had to do with a much-missed smile, a rare laugh, and a sparkle in her eyes that had been absent for too long. The previous night, with its quiet conversation and not so quiet pillow fight, had shown him something he had regretted losing as much as, if not more than, the world as he knew it. He'd had Kara back last night - even if it had just been for a couple of hours. He couldn't regret it.  
  
He watched her sleeping, occasionally closing his eyes and resting some, but mostly just enjoying the sight of her quiet for a change. She was pure energy, always in motion and on the go, and that made this time even more precious.  
  
It was more than an hour later, but much too soon for Lee, when Kara began to stir. He felt the instant when she truly woke, when her body tensed and then once more relaxed. He didn't need to see her eyes to know she was awake.  
  
"Hey," she said softly, turning her head to look up at him.  
  
"Hey," he replied, his voice just as soft and the smile on his face very obvious.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked, and he could have sworn there was a slight blush on her cheeks. He knew Kara never blushed, so he thought it must have been their shared warmth.  
  
"Just watching," he admitted.  
  
"Watching what?"  
  
"You. Sleeping. You're kinda cute when you aren't punching anyone."  
  
She finally smiled, and he felt like he'd won a prize. "Thanks," she remarked with more than a little sarcasm. "What time is it?"  
  
"Not sure," he replied. "You're lying on my watch arm."  
  
Her head flashed around and this time it was a definite blush on her face before she moved. "You should have dumped me off."  
  
"Not a chance," he told her, bending his elbow and working his wrist to try to get some feeling back in there. "Almost midday," he finally answered.  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Yeah. But it was late when we got to sleep, and you were pretty tired."  
  
She nodded at that, but she'd put her head back down on the pillow and was still lying with her back against his chest.  
  
"Still tired?" he asked.  
  
"Not really," she admitted. "Just comfortable."  
  
He brushed the bangs from her forehead again, tucking them behind her ear. "Yeah, it's nice."  
  
"It's warm."  
  
He laughed softly. They thought so much alike.  
  
"We do have to get up eventually," he told her. "My dinner's about gone."  
  
On cue, her stomach growled. She giggled softly and he had to smile again. She was going to be okay after all. Maybe they both would be.  
  
"They should be serving lunch," he told her. "For a while anyway. Rumor had it that anything left from the banquet would be on the lunch line."  
  
"That might be worth getting up for," she admitted wryly. But he seriously doubted it.  
  
Kara had known it would be awkward slipping back into quarters with her dress uniform on, but she hadn't quite planned on the silence that greeted her when she came through the hatch. She went through a few scenarios in her mind regarding how to best handle the situation, and decided that shock factor was probably her best weapon. That and the absolute truth that she had done nothing wrong, and had nothing to hide.  
  
"Morning, Guys," she said with her brightest smile. "Miss me?"  
  
"More like afternoon," Hawk called.  
  
Her head jerked around at the familiar voice. "Welcome back," she called with a genuine smile. "I thought you'd be in the life station for another week."  
  
"I'm stubborn," he stated emphatically as he stood and moved away from his bunk. "They let me out this morning. I still have to go in for bandage changes and the like, and no duty, but it beats the hell out of hospital beds and lousy food."  
  
"Now you can have crew bunks and lousy food," she agreed. "It's good to have you back."  
  
"You, too," he said as he sat down next to Lieutenant Evans on a lower bunk. "Where've you been."  
  
"A friend got me into private quarters," she said honestly. "I got to sleep in."  
  
"Private quarters?" Runner asked. "How'd you swing that?"  
  
"I didn't. A friend did," she hedged. "You guys on duty today?"  
  
"Tonight," Runner admitted.  
  
"Two hours," Evans grumbled.  
  
"I'm off," Hawk said with a straight face. They all laughed at that.  
  
"Hey, Starbuck?"  
  
Kara turned back to face Rand, who had just walked in from the shower bays wrapped in only a towel. "Yeah?"  
  
"You okay?" he asked.  
  
It was better than the grilling she'd expected; that was certain. "I'm great," she replied. "I'm just gonna shower and catch a run before I go to lunch."  
  
"By yourself?" Rand asked. It was probably as close as he'd come to prying.  
  
She took a deep breath, and dove in. "Look, before the rumor mill gets going, let's set something straight. Who I run with, eat with, sleep with, or do anything else with is entirely my business. Understood?" After seeing a couple of sheepish nods, she continued. "While I have your attention, Apollo and I have been friends for a long time," she said in a stern voice. "I'm not going to stay clear of him just because you guys can't recognize authority. He hasn't done anything wrong, and I'm sick of the crap you say behind his back. He's a good friend, and he'd probably be yours too if you'd give him a chance. I won't apologize for defending him, or running with him, or anything else I do with him - which I repeat is none of your business."  
  
There were a couple of nods, and a couple of angry looks, but she really didn't care. She looked around the room as she waited for a response, but she didn't get one. Finally sure they wouldn't say anything more, at least not in front of her, she stripped off her dress uniform and tossed it on her bunk. She traded boots for running shoes, and grabbed some shorts from her locker as she walked past them. "Anyone want to run?" she asked, her voice a challenge.  
  
There were shaken heads and a couple of negative sounds, but she hadn't expected anything different. She stepped from the hatch and started at a jog, glad to be out of the tense room. It wasn't long before she was up to a dead run, long legs flying up staircases and around passageways. She felt better than she had in ages: well rested and fit, and ready to take on the world. She just hoped that the world didn't take her up on it.  
  
Lee Adama stowed his helmet in his ready room locker. The patrol had been long but thankfully uneventful. He was glad for small favors. At the very least his wingman had been civil, and that had been a nice change.  
  
As usual, the room was filled with pilots either getting ready for or getting off duty. Some were playing cards, and others were just resting or looking over flight rosters. It was the same as it was every time he came through here. He quickly unfastened his flight suit and prepared to change into his regular work uniform.  
  
"Hey, Apollo?"  
  
He glanced over at Sharon Valerii, who was sitting with two other men at a table near the center of the room. "Yeah?"  
  
"You still play Pyramid?"  
  
He paused a moment. They had never invited him to play before, so he didn't know what to say. He hated cards. He'd been beaten in too many games by Kara to have any confidence in his ability. "Occasionally," he admitted.  
  
"We need a forth," the Lieutenant next to her said. Lee thought his name was Evans, but he couldn't be sure. He knew the guy was the pilot that slept two beds down from his, and one over. They'd never really made it to names.  
  
Lee took a deep breath before he answered. "I'll play," he consented. "As long as Starbuck's not around. I don't like losing."  
  
All three of them laughed at that, and he had to join in. Kara's card playing was legendary, even with a war going on.  
  
"No problem," Sharon said with a smile. "I think she's tearing apart her Viper with the Chief. Something about him never getting the gimbal right."  
  
Taking a seat, he muttered, "That's Kara," and there were a few nods around the table. Then Sharon was dealing the cards, and all he had time to think about was the game at hand. It didn't look good for him.  
  
Three games later, he was developing a notorious reputation as the greatest Pyramid loser in fleet history, but he couldn't seem to mind. At least he was in the game. Sometimes, that was what mattered. If it took a little song and dance to get along with the guys, he'd find a way to manage it. Loosening up a little couldn't hurt that much. So he'd just play a little cards with the guys. And maybe he'd dance.  
  
The End (  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Kara tugged back the covers and lay back with a sigh. She didn't mind her bunk, but a real bed wasn't something she'd turn down. Lee was in the shower - she'd saved him that five minutes after all.  
  
She supposed she should feel uncomfortable spending the night with a man, but this was Lee. She and Zak had crawled into his bed during more than one thunderstorm on Caprica, and this really wasn't so different. She was feeling a little empty, and he was likely feeling the same, and it just made sense to keep one another company.  
  
"I forgot what hot water felt like," Lee remarked as he exited the bathroom wearing undershorts and a tank top.  
  
"It was nice," she agreed.  
  
He walked over at sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, just looking at her.  
  
"What?"  
  
He grinned. "Just seems like old times," he commented. "But no lightning."  
  
She smiled back at him. "I was just thinking about that," she admitted. "You always put up with us, even when you got squished."  
  
"Squished nothing," he said in a wry tone. "Half the time I woke up on the floor. At least you aren't the one that used to kick me in the stomach."  
  
"I promise to keep my feet to myself."  
  
He smiled at her again and lay down next to her. The bed was bigger than their bunks, but not quite as big as a double. It was a snug fit, but they could lay side-by-side without much difficulty. Lee put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "You tired?"  
  
She grinned. "I'm wired," she admitted.  
  
"Me too."  
  
"You want to play cards?"  
  
"I have better sense than that," he told her, turning his head sideways to look at her. "I don't play against Starbuck."  
  
"You're smarter than you look," she told him. It earned her a pillow in the face, but she could give as good as she got. Within a few seconds they were battling with pillows and beating one another silly. She finally called a truce, and they laughingly put the covers back on the bed and straightened them out. This time when Kara pulled back the covers to get in, Lee got in right beside her.  
  
"You're dangerous," he grumbled as he rubbed his face.  
  
"At least I didn't break your jaw."  
  
That sent them into a fit of laughter again, until Kara's side hurt and she had tears streaming down her face. When she finally wiped her hands over her cheeks, her smile faded slightly.  
  
"I never thought I'd be laughing today," she admitted. "It seems almost. wrong."  
  
Lee shook his head at that. "Survivor's guilt," he told her simply. "Just remember, Zak never would have wanted you miserable. He liked to make you laugh." He rolled onto his side facing her and reached out to easily flip her onto her side, faced away from him.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Relax," he said quietly as he tugged her back into the curve of his body. "I'm just settling in. You're less likely to kick me if you're faced that way."  
  
"Don't count on it," she muttered, but she couldn't argue that the position was comfortable. Her back was against the front of his body, and he was warm. One of his arms was draped across her side and his hand was comfortably on her hip. With anyone else she might have felt compromised in the position, but this was just Lee, and he had always kept her safe.  
  
They lay that way for a few minutes before he spoke. "It's been good hearing you laugh tonight. I've missed that."  
  
She put her arm over his and held his hand. "There hasn't been much to laugh about."  
  
"I know."  
  
"It's getting better, though. I half expected something to happen today just because of the ceremony, but it all worked out fine."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They were quiet for a while longer, and Kara started to wonder if he'd gone to sleep on her. His breathing was deep and regular, and his body relaxed. She gave a soft sigh and just enjoyed not having to be alone for the first time in recent memory. Lee was always nearby - his bunk was above hers - but this was different.  
  
They had been very close as kids, but as adolescence had approached she had become uncomfortable with the boys. Zak hadn't let it bother him, but Lee had gone pretty shy. Suddenly skinny-dipping and pillow fights were less acceptable and they were expected to act as adults. The funny part was, there was a lot to be said for a good pillow fight - or skinny-dipping, for that matter.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
His voice was barely a whisper as he released her hand and reached up to tuck her hair back behind her ear. The bangs had been falling in her eyes. It was odd how he always seemed to know what bothered her before she did. "Fine," she answered. "Comfortable."  
  
"Me too," he said softly. "So who gets stuck turning out the lights?"  
  
She thought about getting out of the warm bed, or having him do it, but suddenly it didn't matter at all. "Just leave them on," she suggested. "I'm warm."  
  
"Me too," he repeated, his voice fading on the words. She couldn't blame him. The events of the day had definitely caught up with them, and she was exhausted.  
  
"Night, Lee," she whispered, finally closing her eyes to sleep. He must have already been out, because she never heard him answer.  
  
The first thing Lee noticed as he drifted slowly awake was that he was warm. Really warm. For the first time in as long as he could remember, the pervasive chill of space wasn't surrounding him.  
  
The Galactica was a good ship. She was technologically limited by design, but she was as comfortable as any in space. Unfortunately, heat required fuel, and Tylium was a constant issue as they fled the Cylons. Because of this, everything stayed just a little cooler than was strictly comfortable. It wasn't cold - nobody got sick from it - but neither was it warm.  
  
Lee was warm. He shifted minutely, noting that his right arm was numb and there was hair tickling his nose. One eye opened slowly, and a gentle smile came across his face. It was just Kara.  
  
It had been a very long time since he'd awoken with a woman in his arms. The refreshing part about the situation was that he wasn't in the process of trying to think of how to get out of the bed without waking her or out of the room without facing uncomfortable conversations. This wasn't one of the rare bed partners he'd had over the years - albeit far fewer since he'd left the academy - but rather a friend.  
  
Friend or not, his body had a predictable response to early morning and warm woman. He shifted himself back a bit, moving his arm in the process and wincing at the pins-and-needles feeling that pervaded it.  
  
Kara shifted then, her body inching backward as if searching for him. She probably was. She probably liked the warmth of a shared bed as much as he did. But he didn't want her awake just yet. He was warm, and drowsy, and he knew this was a stolen moment out of time. He didn't want to waste it.  
  
He rested his chin carefully atop her head to keep the hair from tickling him, and put his arm back around her. Neither of them slept much, although both of them got more rest than they had at the beginning of the war. Schedules were a bit more regular, and they weren't awoken quite so often by either theirs or another's nightmares. In fact, things in quarters were almost comfortable, if it weren't for so many unfriendly faces.  
  
He would have to deal with those faces after this. It didn't bother him very much, because they didn't like him in the first place. They had glared at him behind his back before this, and now they might glare to his face. He might even hear a word or two against him before he turned a corner or stepped out of a shower stall, but they would likely not confront him directly.  
  
The thing that bothered him about the situations was that now they actually had a reason. No, they wouldn't know that the only thing going on in the isolated room was some sleeping, and it wasn't his job to educate them on what was none of their business, but he couldn't deny that he'd given them quite an opening for gossip.  
  
Kara had said that it didn't matter, but her heart was softer than she let on. She needed friends, and at the moment she had some. She'd put enough of those friendships on the line by just sticking by the new CAG when nobody else did, but to sleep with the enemy might strain those relationships beyond mending. He wanted to be her friend - needed her in ways he was just beginning to understand - but she needed more than just him. The thought that this might cause her hassle really did bother him. Not enough, as it turned out, to keep him out of the room or out of the bed.  
  
He wished he could regret it.  
  
Truthfully though, he was more content than he'd been in ages. And it didn't have all that much to do with sleeping in her bed. It had to do with a much-missed smile, a rare laugh, and a sparkle in her eyes that had been absent for too long. The previous night, with its quiet conversation and not so quiet pillow fight, had shown him something he had regretted losing as much as, if not more than, the world as he knew it. He'd had Kara back last night - even if it had just been for a couple of hours. He couldn't regret it.  
  
He watched her sleeping, occasionally closing his eyes and resting some, but mostly just enjoying the sight of her quiet for a change. She was pure energy, always in motion and on the go, and that made this time even more precious.  
  
It was more than an hour later, but much too soon for Lee, when Kara began to stir. He felt the instant when she truly woke, when her body tensed and then once more relaxed. He didn't need to see her eyes to know she was awake.  
  
"Hey," she said softly, turning her head to look up at him.  
  
"Hey," he replied, his voice just as soft and the smile on his face very obvious.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked, and he could have sworn there was a slight blush on her cheeks. He knew Kara never blushed, so he thought it must have been their shared warmth.  
  
"Just watching," he admitted.  
  
"Watching what?"  
  
"You. Sleeping. You're kinda cute when you aren't punching anyone."  
  
She finally smiled, and he felt like he'd won a prize. "Thanks," she remarked with more than a little sarcasm. "What time is it?"  
  
"Not sure," he replied. "You're lying on my watch arm."  
  
Her head flashed around and this time it was a definite blush on her face before she moved. "You should have dumped me off."  
  
"Not a chance," he told her, bending his elbow and working his wrist to try to get some feeling back in there. "Almost midday," he finally answered.  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Yeah. But it was late when we got to sleep, and you were pretty tired."  
  
She nodded at that, but she'd put her head back down on the pillow and was still lying with her back against his chest.  
  
"Still tired?" he asked.  
  
"Not really," she admitted. "Just comfortable."  
  
He brushed the bangs from her forehead again, tucking them behind her ear. "Yeah, it's nice."  
  
"It's warm."  
  
He laughed softly. They thought so much alike.  
  
"We do have to get up eventually," he told her. "My dinner's about gone."  
  
On cue, her stomach growled. She giggled softly and he had to smile again. She was going to be okay after all. Maybe they both would be.  
  
"They should be serving lunch," he told her. "For a while anyway. Rumor had it that anything left from the banquet would be on the lunch line."  
  
"That might be worth getting up for," she admitted wryly. But he seriously doubted it.  
  
Kara had known it would be awkward slipping back into quarters with her dress uniform on, but she hadn't quite planned on the silence that greeted her when she came through the hatch. She went through a few scenarios in her mind regarding how to best handle the situation, and decided that shock factor was probably her best weapon. That and the absolute truth that she had done nothing wrong, and had nothing to hide.  
  
"Morning, Guys," she said with her brightest smile. "Miss me?"  
  
"More like afternoon," Hawk called.  
  
Her head jerked around at the familiar voice. "Welcome back," she called with a genuine smile. "I thought you'd be in the life station for another week."  
  
"I'm stubborn," he stated emphatically as he stood and moved away from his bunk. "They let me out this morning. I still have to go in for bandage changes and the like, and no duty, but it beats the hell out of hospital beds and lousy food."  
  
"Now you can have crew bunks and lousy food," she agreed. "It's good to have you back."  
  
"You, too," he said as he sat down next to Lieutenant Evans on a lower bunk. "Where've you been."  
  
"A friend got me into private quarters," she said honestly. "I got to sleep in."  
  
"Private quarters?" Runner asked. "How'd you swing that?"  
  
"I didn't. A friend did," she hedged. "You guys on duty today?"  
  
"Tonight," Runner admitted.  
  
"Two hours," Evans grumbled.  
  
"I'm off," Hawk said with a straight face. They all laughed at that.  
  
"Hey, Starbuck?"  
  
Kara turned back to face Rand, who had just walked in from the shower bays wrapped in only a towel. "Yeah?"  
  
"You okay?" he asked.  
  
It was better than the grilling she'd expected; that was certain. "I'm great," she replied. "I'm just gonna shower and catch a run before I go to lunch."  
  
"By yourself?" Rand asked. It was probably as close as he'd come to prying.  
  
She took a deep breath, and dove in. "Look, before the rumor mill gets going, let's set something straight. Who I run with, eat with, sleep with, or do anything else with is entirely my business. Understood?" After seeing a couple of sheepish nods, she continued. "While I have your attention, Apollo and I have been friends for a long time," she said in a stern voice. "I'm not going to stay clear of him just because you guys can't recognize authority. He hasn't done anything wrong, and I'm sick of the crap you say behind his back. He's a good friend, and he'd probably be yours too if you'd give him a chance. I won't apologize for defending him, or running with him, or anything else I do with him - which I repeat is none of your business."  
  
There were a couple of nods, and a couple of angry looks, but she really didn't care. She looked around the room as she waited for a response, but she didn't get one. Finally sure they wouldn't say anything more, at least not in front of her, she stripped off her dress uniform and tossed it on her bunk. She traded boots for running shoes, and grabbed some shorts from her locker as she walked past them. "Anyone want to run?" she asked, her voice a challenge.  
  
There were shaken heads and a couple of negative sounds, but she hadn't expected anything different. She stepped from the hatch and started at a jog, glad to be out of the tense room. It wasn't long before she was up to a dead run, long legs flying up staircases and around passageways. She felt better than she had in ages: well rested and fit, and ready to take on the world. She just hoped that the world didn't take her up on it.  
  
Lee Adama stowed his helmet in his ready room locker. The patrol had been long but thankfully uneventful. He was glad for small favors. At the very least his wingman had been civil, and that had been a nice change.  
  
As usual, the room was filled with pilots either getting ready for or getting off duty. Some were playing cards, and others were just resting or looking over flight rosters. It was the same as it was every time he came through here. He quickly unfastened his flight suit and prepared to change into his regular work uniform.  
  
"Hey, Apollo?"  
  
He glanced over at Sharon Valerii, who was sitting with two other men at a table near the center of the room. "Yeah?"  
  
"You still play Pyramid?"  
  
He paused a moment. They had never invited him to play before, so he didn't know what to say. He hated cards. He'd been beaten in too many games by Kara to have any confidence in his ability. "Occasionally," he admitted.  
  
"We need a forth," the Lieutenant next to her said. Lee thought his name was Evans, but he couldn't be sure. He knew the guy was the pilot that slept two beds down from his, and one over. They'd never really made it to names.  
  
Lee took a deep breath before he answered. "I'll play," he consented. "As long as Starbuck's not around. I don't like losing."  
  
All three of them laughed at that, and he had to join in. Kara's card playing was legendary, even with a war going on.  
  
"No problem," Sharon said with a smile. "I think she's tearing apart her Viper with the Chief. Something about him never getting the gimbal right."  
  
Taking a seat, he muttered, "That's Kara," and there were a few nods around the table. Then Sharon was dealing the cards, and all he had time to think about was the game at hand. It didn't look good for him.  
  
Three games later, he was developing a notorious reputation as the greatest Pyramid loser in fleet history, but he couldn't seem to mind. At least he was in the game. Sometimes, that was what mattered. If it took a little song and dance to get along with the guys, he'd find a way to manage it. Loosening up a little couldn't hurt that much. So he'd just play a little cards with the guys. And maybe he'd dance.  
  
The End ( 


End file.
